


Eurythmia: Season 1

by Baron_Barkonnen



Series: Eurythmia [1]
Category: Euphoria (TV 2019), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Depression, Drug Use, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Get aaaalll the way off my back I don't have a beta to help me plan this shit out, I'm not a medical professional. - Freeform, Kind of Attempted Suicide if you Squint, Kind of Infinity War Compliant, Lexi Howard is a Good Bro (bro is gender neutral in this context duh), Looking for a beta if someone is interested., Mental Health Issues, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, NOT endgame compliant, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Ratings and Tags liable to change as the story evolves, Spideychelle, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Take medical claims with a massive boulder of salt, dubious medical facts, speaking of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 69,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baron_Barkonnen/pseuds/Baron_Barkonnen
Summary: Eurythmic:adjective:(especially relating to architecture or art) in or relating to a harmonious proportion.People think they know Michelle Jones. They know she's a star student at a prestigious private school. They know she's an introvert who doesn't have many friends. What they don't know is that she also goes to wild parties on the weekends and that she regularly does lines of oxycontin in the girl's bathroom. They didn't know... until she overdosed in her bedroom.Peter Parker is a good kid who hasn't had the easiest life so far. Sure, he's Spider-man, but the recent death of his mentor soured that to the point were he's debating giving it up entirely. Everyone thinks Peter Parker is so squeaky clean. He'd never do anything bad, right? Well, the truth is he hooks up with random girls on the weekends, and regularly drowns his sorrows in enough booze to make a bull elephant tipsy.Two broken kids with horrifically tragic lives... They just might be able to pull each other back together. But knowing their luck, it isn't going to be easy.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Other background relationships I haven't decided on yet.
Series: Eurythmia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598047
Comments: 29
Kudos: 81





	1. Episode 1: Pilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this being heavily inspired by Euphoria, I also will use fourth wall breaking narration, like the show does. It will be dictated by italicized text, and so far I have plans for both Michelle and Peter to be the primary points of view. And if its too off putting to people or if I don't write it well, I might change it later on, or take it out entirely if it gets a bad enough reaction from people.

_I came into this world in the usual way, born out of a womb like everyone else. And like everyone else, I too had no choice in the matter. My mother’s uterus didn’t care that literally the only time I’ve ever been content and happy in my life was when I was safely gestating in its warm embrace. Not that I blame my parents for conceiving me, or my mom for giving birth to me. I just… sometimes I wish I had a choice, ya know?_

_Cuz the uncomfortable truth that most people know, but few ever truly recognize is that the world is fucked, totally and inextricably fucked. Unfortunately for me, I came face to face with that literally the day I was born. Because my mom’s dumbfuck doctor just_ _had_ _to watch the news while my mom was giving birth to me. Did I mention that I was born three days after 9/11? Yeah. That was nice, coming into this cold cruel world under the soft light cast by the twin towers collapsing on repeat, followed promptly by George Bush’s barely coherent speeches and jingoistic chanting._

_So yeah, even though it was totally unconscious, I was taught just how shitty this world was from literally minute-fucking-one. And unfortunately it didn’t get any better as I grew up. Not to say I had an objectively bad childhood. We were a perfectly middle-class family. I didn’t have to worry about clean water, physical or emotional abuse, or anything like that. But, thanks to a 24 hour news cycle, I saw every single fucking day people who did._

_And no one helped them. Or when they did, it was little token stuff, metaphorical bandaids slapped over arterial bleeding. Treating the symptoms instead of curing the underlying disease. I have a million healthcare related metaphors, but I’m gonna restrain myself to those two._

_One day, I asked my mom why? How could people just sit by and let other people suffer so terribly? Or arguably even worse, give ‘thoughts and prayers’ without so much as lifting a finger to help anyone. “Michelle,” she told me, “It's just how the world is. Terrible, awful things happen to good people who don’t deserve it. The only thing we can do is help in whatever way we can, and hope for the best.”_

_I hated that answer. It was so fucking depressing. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t my mom’s fault. I wasn’t a difficult kid growing up. I mean, didn’t throw dumb tantrums or anything. But I did ask a lot of impossibly hard to answer questions. It really got on my mom’s nerves, I could tell. Because she knew she couldn’t get mad. I guess it was a good thing I asked questions like that? But I could tell she knew her answers weren’t… weren’t enough, I guess?_

_If endless wars in the middle east, worldwide crop failure, famine, disease, autocratic states, climate change, environmental destruction, oppression of minorities, genocide, plastic in the ocean, air pollution, factory farming, exploitation of the working class, overpriced inneffective and innefficent healthcare, resource shortages and general death, destruction and suffering weren’t enough, in 2008 Iron Man had to step onto the world stage. Don’t get me wrong, I know Tony Stark was just trying to do his best to make the world a better place. But in my opinion he could do better by using his literally near trillion dollar fortune to eradicate disease and poverty and stuff. Instead of funding his Iron Man suits and like, arguably attracting all that trouble with super villains to begin with._

_And then in 2012 aliens had to literally invade Manhattan. Like, human beings were doing enough to fuck ourselves over, but then we had to learn that on top of that, the cosmos itself was against us. Along with beings that had the audacity to call themselves ‘gods’. Fucking posers. All of that, as shitty and unfair as it is, I probably could have dealt with. I could have probably shut my eyes, plugged my ears, and sung a happy song to myself to drown out the existential dread like literally everyone else._

_Then when I was thirteen my dad got diagnosed with terminal cancer. It was bad enough being bombarded with the cruelty of the world from minute one, but there was a comfort I took in the fact that so far, nothing so terrible had happened to me. Until it did. See, as fucked up as the world was, the one thing that made it better was my dad. My mom tried to answer my questions, and help me understand the world for what it was. And I’m thankful for that, really. But dad honestly made my world brighter._

_He was my distraction. Cuz everytime I got caught up in my own stupid nihilism, he’d pull me out. He showed me that the world didn’t have to be so bad, that if enough strong willed people stood together and faced the cruelty, the hatred, the apathy, that we could genuinely change the fucked up system. For every Adolf Hitler, there was at least one Franklin D. Roosevelt. For every J. Edgar Hoover, at least one Fred Hamton. For every Donald Trump, at least one Bernie Sanders. For every… every… Uh, I’m running out of contemporary dichotomous world leaders/activists off the top of my head, but you get the point._

_He always encouraged me to learn about everyone ‘good’ in this fucked up world. To focus on those fighting, truly fighting, for meaningful positive change. And then he got slapped in the face with his own mortality. I guess staring into the void messes with people in really terrible ways. Cuz suddenly he wasn’t so optimistic, his hope for a brighter future dimmed… and eventually went totally dark._

_You ever hear stories about how terminal illness can bring out the worst in people? Like, suddenly because they have no hope for a future they break down and start hating everything? I can attest that is a real thing, cuz it happened to my dad. Every day he’d tell my mom, my sister, and I that he loved us more than anything in the world. And every day, he’d make passive aggressive passes at mom, or shout at me for hours just for spilling his oatmeal, or throw Gia’s lovingly crafted photo album of our family down the hallway because looking at it made him feel sick._

_Side note: that was how my drug addiction started. I just got fed up with his rants one day and took a few of his OCs when no one was looking. And suddenly, it all faded away. Literally and figuratively. After nearly fourteen years of caring too much, I could finally not give a shit about... anything and everything. I felt free… safe from anxiety, my own fucked up mind, for the first time in my entire life. And from then on, I knew there was no going back._

_I started going to parties. Really really intense, wild, off the fucking wall parties. Not because I liked them. The idea of human interaction on that level gives me hives. But because someone always broke open their parent’s liquor cabinet, or better yet, their medicine cabinet. Everclear, moonshine, lean, weed, oxycodone, xanax, klonopin, I saw it all, I did it all. Just so I could_ _keep_ _not caring. And one day, I stopped caring about just exactly_ _how_ _much drugs I was doing. One day, I stopped caring about living entirely. One day, I overdosed on oxycodone. One day, I would have fucking died on the floor of my own bedroom, if one friendly neighborhood superhero hadn’t been swinging by my window._

* * *

Gia Jones was a good kid. She helped keep the house clean without anyone asking, did her homework well and on time, volunteered at homeless shelters whenever she had time, all that jazz. She also covered for her sister when she went out on weekends to get high as a goddamned kite. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to walk into her sisters room to the sight of Michelle convulsing on the floor in a pool of her own vomit if she didn’t do that last one so often, but still. It didn’t mean she deserved to see that. 

She stood in shock and horror for what felt like an eternity, but honestly was only a few seconds before she dove her hand in her pocket and fished out her phone. As quick as her shaking fingers would allow, she called 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” A cold and scripted question.

“Uh… M-my sister…”

“Yes?”

“M-my sister… I think she’s overdosing on something…” Gia managed to cry out, barely holding back the sobs that wracked her body.

“Alright kid, just stay calm and tell me your address. Paramedics will be there as soon as they can.” Replied the too-calm operator.

Gia managed with shuddering breaths to give them her address and apartment number. She knew the average paramedic response time, and somehow, she knew it was longer than her sister had. She did the only thing she could think of. She ran to her sister’s window, and climbed onto the fire escape.

“Please! Someone help! PLEASE!” A desperate cry for help that she knew would most likely be ignored by an apathetic city. But she cried out anyway.

It was sheer, dumb luck that that evening, Peter Parker desided to don his Stark-made spidersuit that night for the first time in months. He… hadn’t been doing well for a while, and stopped actively patrolling. Until one day for some inexplicable reason he decided that he needed to go out again, if only just that night and only to clear his head. 

It was sheer, dumb luck that he happened to be swinging through the alleyway where thirteen year old Gia Jones cried out for help to an uncaring city. It was sheer dumb luck that one caring person just happened to land on her fire escape. It was sheer, dumb luck that saved Michelle Jones’s life that night.

“Hey, kid. What do you need?” Asked a blue and red blur. Gia couldn’t see through her tears.

“M-my sister,” she stuttered, waving vaguely into the room.

Peter effortlessly vaulted the window, and froze when he saw Michelle Jones of all people, convulsing in a pool of puke. Stoic, emotionless Michelle Jones. Michelle Jones, his decathlon team member. Michelle Jones, who seemingly effortlessly achieved near perfect grades. Michelle Jones, who every day would sit with Peter and Ned, reading a book and half-heartedly trading quips with them. Michelle Jones, his… his friend? Well, friend adjacent would be a more appropriate term, all things considered-

“Peter! Snap out of it!” His suit AI, Karen, shouted in his ear. “She’s having an opioid overdose. She doesn’t have much time!”

God, what would he do without Karen? Michelle would probably be a lot worse off, at the very least.

“Uh, right. Right. Sorry, what… I don’t know what to do…” Thankfully Gia was too worried to hear what he said, or care that he was apparently talking to himself.

A compartment on his utility belt vibrated. And when he looked down, his suit HUD highlighted said compartment, digitally labelling it as ‘Emergency Narcan’. When he pulled it free of the magnetic strip of his belt, the compartment automatically released a small nasal spray opening.

“Make sure her nose is clear, and spray as much of that as you can into her nasal passage.” 

Peter bent down, tilting Michelle’s head up so he could properly administer the nasal spray. 

He sprayed until the compartment was empty. “Okay,” Karen said, “Now tilt her on her side and make sure her throat is clear.” 

Karen highlighted another emergency medical compartment on his belt, this one opening up to reveal a compressed silicon medical suction bulb. Taking a breath to still his hands, he somewhat deftly used the bulb to clear Michelles airways. With his free hand, he gripped her wrist so Karen could get an accurate read on her vitals.

“Alright, her breathing and heart rate are approaching some semblance of regularity, and her blood oxygen is still very low but stable. As long as she gets to a hospital soon, she should be alright. Hopefully.” Karen dutifully reported.

A report that Peter passed on to the terrified teenager crying in the corner. Gia sobbed, this time in relief, before running over and throwing her arms around the teenage superhero who apparently saved her sister’s life. 

Peter being Peter, didn’t shirk away. He leaned into the hug, holding the crying teenager to comfort himself as much as her. He stayed like that until the paramedics came. They did their own check on her vitals, and came to the same conclusion Karen did. 

As they wheeled her into the ambulance, Peter climbed in the back along with Gia.

“Hey Spidey, as much as I’m a fan, I can’t let you come along unless-” The paramedic began.

“He can come if he wants.” Gia cut in. And apparently that was enough for him to get an ambulance ride to the nearest hospital.

Gia held her sister’s hand the entire time. And surprisingly enough, Spider-man held Michelle’s other hand, idly and unconsciously stroking at her knuckles.

“Do um. Do you know my sister?” Gia asked, eyeing his red and blue gloved hands.

“Oh, uh. No. I just… it hits hard, seeing a-a teenager going through this. Um. I just…”

“It’s okay, Spidey. You can have a secret crush on my sister. I won’t tell anyone.” Gia replied, smiling slightly even as tears dripped down her cheeks. Suddenly the rest of the trip became a thousand times more awkward, but somehow, a million times less awkward at the same time. 

* * *

Peter stayed with Gia until their mom rushed into Michelle’s hospital room. By sheer luck and terrible misfortune, Michelle was administered to the same hospital her mother Leslie worked at. 

A very tall distraught woman in scrubs rushed into the room about an hour after Michelle was administered into the hospital, ignoring Spider-man completely and kneeling next to her daughter’s bedside. After a few minutes of fretting and thanking various deities, Leslie Jones realized that it was indeed Spider-man awkwardly leaning against the corner of the room.

She got up and closed the distance between them with surprising speed and embraced Peter in a bone-crushing hug. “Y-you saved my baby… Thank you… so much.”

Peter awkwardly stiffened, and returned the gesture as the older woman cried into his shoulder. “Uh. It’s… well… I just did what anyone would do in that situation, ma’am. It's kind of my job, really.”

The arrival of the doctor saved Peter from the awkward situation. A man with piercing eyes and an unreasonably well-groomed beard walked into the room, checking over Michelle’s chart. Peter recognized him in an instant, despite him wearing puke green scrubs.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Strange-” He began before Gia cut him off.

“What?” She asked, assuming something was strange about her sister's chart.

“Oh, no. Strange is my given surname. I mean… my name is literally Strange. Just, just look,” he said, flashing his hospital ID that identified him as Doctor Stephen Strange. Thankfully, that nipped the stupidly Abbott and Costello esque introduction in the bud.

Pointedly ignoring the red and blue superhero in the corner, Stephen began rambling about Michelle’s prognosis, outcomes, what the family could expect in the following days, etcetera. Thus, Lesie and Gia were entirely focused on him and therefore, not focused on his blue robe clad, red caped counterpart who phased through the opposite wall.

Of course, Spider-man saw, and almost freaked out, until the real Stephen Strange motioned for him to be quiet, before he began making the iconic gestures of someone channeling the mystic arts. Astral versions of his upper arms and hands phased into Michelle’s body, literally pulling out the residual narcotics in her system. What would take Michelle’s own body days, if not weeks to metabolize on its own, he accomplished in mere minutes. 

His physical hands hovered next to her temples, little tendrils of orange energy flowing from his fingertips into her skull. The mystic energy re-invigorated millions of dead or dying brain cells, reconnecting billions of synapses and generally repairing the horrific damage her brain sustained.

Doctor Strange shook his head, muttering, “Poor kid…” as he walked around her bed and finally addressed a still mildly shocked Spider-man. Time in the hospital room froze, the heart rate monitor stopping mid beep, Gia and Leslie frozen mid-sentence.

“Alright, Peter, who is this girl to you?” He asked sympathetically as he pulled up a chair.

“Uh, just a friend from school.” Peter replied. Of course, Doctor Strange knew his secret identity, Peter having blurted it entirely on accident the first time he met the reclusive wizard.

“Just a friend huh? And you just happened to be out on patrol for the first time in months just as your friend happened to have a massive near life ending overdose?” Strange asked.

“Yeah…” Peter replied. “Was it… was it really that bad?”

“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, she would have been brain dead by the time paramedics arrived. And if I didn’t do what I just did, she would have lived… for a short while as a brain dead vegetable. But, thanks to both of our timely interventions, she should fully recover in a few days.” 

Peter gasped, slowly sinking into a nearby chair, the reality of how close his friend had come to dying settling in. “Oh god… She… I…”

“Yeah.” Strange said, cutting off his rambling. “But she didn’t, thanks to you. Don’t focus on what might have been, it's not healthy.”

“Right,” Peter sighed. Michelle was only alive because he decided on a random whim to go out on patrol for the first time in months. An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over him as he realized how many other potential tragedies might have been avoided if he hadn’t been a selfish coward.

Sensing what Peter was realized, Strange reaffirmed, “No one blames you for taking a mental break, Peter. Trust me, after what you went through, you needed one very badly. Remember, don’t focus on the ‘what might have beens’. Focus on the here and now.”

Peter took another shaky breath. “Okay. Um. I guess I should finish patrolling. Can you cover for me?” Peter opened the window.

“No problem, kid. It’s… it's good to have you back.” Strange replied as Peter leapt, and web-slung his way down the street.

* * *

_So yeah, that was how Spider-man and Doctor Strange collectively saved my pathetic existence. Not that I asked them to or wanted them too. I was perfectly content with dying, thank you very much. Not that it was my intention. Actually, now that I think about it, I do feel guilty about what that would have done to my mom and sister. Hell, I feel guilty for putting them through what I did._

_And that guilt motivated me to stay clean, at least for a while. And I probably would have, too. Except for that when someone abuses and overdoses on opioids, one tends to be admitted to rehab, whether one wants to or not._

_I hated rehab, my utter contempt for the institution oh so very thinly veiled as I sat through seminars, group therapy sessions, intervention after fucking intervention. They even did that stupid cliched thing where you walk up to a casket with a mirror in it. It’s so stupid and ham-fisted, I literally cannot put words to how much I hated that._

_As much as I despised the mirror in the casket thing, I hated the… the religiosity of the whole process infinitely more. I hated being forced to say my choices could never be my own, that I had to rely on the machinations of an imaginary bearded man in the sky to save me from my own inadequacies. Fuck that. I am about as atheist as one can possibly be, so you can imagine how much a religious based rehab facility rubbed my nerves raw._

_Oh, and before all you theists say stupid shit like, “Oh, Michelle, maybe you wouldn’t be such a nihilistic asshole if you believed in something,” No, even if I believed in some made up bullshit, I still would be a self-destructive nihilist, thank you very much. Cuz like, how could a god, gods, goddess, or goddesses exist and let the world be as shitty as it is? The only conclusion I can see is that they have to be totally sadistic psychopaths and/or sociopaths. And fuck that noise, thank you very much._

_Anyway, I’m gonna stop ranting now and get back to what I was saying earlier. So yeah, I was stuck in a rehab facility that I literally couldn’t hate more. It totally overwhelmed any guilt I felt. As my mom drove my sister and I home from that cursed rehab facility, I vowed as soon as my mom’s back was turned, the first thing I’d do is ride my bike to a gas station. Not just any gas station, mind you. It hardly ever sold any gas, barely sold anything really. Well, anything legal, that is..._

* * *

Michelle leaned her bike against the front window display of a normal, every day looking gas station. Adjusting her thigh length, faux leather (cuz fuck the leather industry) duster, she approached the loan figure sitting by one of the pumps. 

The guy had a buzzed head, an angry scar running along his scalp, and a short ginger beard. He took another drag from his thin cigarillo just as Michelle halted in front of him. “Hey, MJ, what’s up homie?” He asked jovially.

“Fez, how many times do I have to tell you, my name is Michelle,”she said as she playfully kicked his foot.

“Yeah, but MJ just rolls off the tongue better, ya get me?” Fez said after exhaling another cloud of smoke.

“Fine, you can call me that because you’re like, my only friend I guess.” She eyed the cigarillo he was smoking. “You know those things will kill you right?”

Fez almost dropped said cigarillo in shock. “You… you of all people can’t talk, MJ.” He said, looking her in the eye. “How was rehab, anyway?”

“Oh, you know, everything kinda fell into place when I found our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.” Michelle said, somehow keeping a straight face.

“That’s what’s up…” Fez said, in utter disbelief.

“I’m fuckin’ with you Fez.” Michelle laughed, playfully slapping his knee before asking rather nervously. “Hey, is Ashtray in the back?”

Fez blinked slowly, in total disbelief. “Y-you jus’ got outta rehab, MJ. Isn’t the point to stay clean?”

“Yeah, but like, the world nearly ended six months ago, so like. Who gives a shit, right?” Michelle said as she shrugged and casually walked into the gas station’s cooler.

A young kid, no older than eleven sat behind a small table, various charts and calculations, formulations and permutations, here pinned up on the wall behind him. He wore a thick winter coat, unseasonable considering it was late August. But considering he literally sat in a cooler all day, it kind of made sense.

“Yo, I thought yo ass was dead,” He said, looking up from the stack of hundred dollar bills he was currently counting.

“And I thought you had Asperger’s, then I realized you’re just a prick.” Michelle replied effortlessly. 

“Hey, don’t blame me. People come and go. I’m just trying to stack my cash, pay off our fuckin’ morgage. So what the fuck you want?”

Michelle sighed. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

The ten year old, colloquially known as Ashtray passed her a couple packs of pills and xany bars, before asking, “Yo, you sure you don’t wanna try somethin’ new?”

“I dunno, what you got?”

Michelle only understood about half of his reply. Chemistry was Peter’s forte, not hers. All she knew was the three little pills in the baggy he passed her was kinda psychedelic like LSD and wasn’t really known to be habit forming. People took it to trip balls, but that kinda high wasn’t really addictive, just… fuckin’ weird. Michelle shrugged and took the baggy anyway.

“Alright, that’ll be one twenty,” Ashtray said as Michelle made to leave the cooler. 

“Fez said he’d spot me,” Michelle said as she ducked out. 

“Ey! Fez don’t spot nobody!”

“Post-rehab discount, then!” Michelle called back just as the door closed. 

Michelle was ready to leave, until she overheard a particularly interesting conversation. An unreasonably ripped, square jawed jock type had just finished loading three kegs of beer into the back of his brand new shiny grey pickup truck.

“Fuck, McKay, this party is gonna be fuckin’ lit.” He said to another jock type sitting in the passenger seat. Michelle knew them both in passing. Christopher McKay and Nate Jacobs. Despite not going to their school, Michelle knew quite a few people from East Highland Highschool. She was zoned for that school, and would have gone there too, if she hadn’t tested so high that Midtown Tech practically begged her to attend. 

“Well, look who it is, Michelle motherfuckin’ Jones, in the flesh,” McKay said as he spotted her, hopped down from Nate’s unreasonably tall truck and walked over to her.

“Yup. Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated,” Michelle said as she casually side-hugged McKay.

“Not so exaggerated, from what I hear it was stop n’ go for a while, right?”

“I mean, yeah. But like. I’m here. I’m alive. And to me, that’s all that fuckin’ matters.”

“Damn straight…” He trailed off as he saw her slip the packet of pills into her duster pocket. Smartly, he decided not to comment on it. “Yeah, so… We’re having our little end of summer bash at my place. I’ll see you there, right?”

Again, Michelle didn’t really like parties. But, if she knew McKay, and she did, then it would have free booze and hopefully she could even maybe bum some free pills off of someone too.

Michelle smirked, “Oh, you know it.”

* * *

Peter combed through his hair one last time, making sure the curls fell just right. Deciding that it was indeed, a perfectly gelled hairdo, he shrugged on his blue plaid shirt over a nerdy graphic t. It was perfectly in the middle of the venn-diagram of his interests. A Star Wars shirt, but making a physics based pun. Yes, he was going to a ‘bumpin’ party’, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t let his nerd flag fly.

There were several reasons he was going to this party. The one he was telling himself the most was that he was there incognito, just in case something went wrong. If someone OD’ed or someone tried to take advantage of a drunk or high person, he’d duck into a bathroom, change into his spider suit and save the day. 

Never mind the fact that if something did go wrong, there wouldn’t be time to find somewhere secluded to change. Never mind the fact that he wasn’t even bringing his spider suit. Never mind the fact that May was working graveyard tonight. Never mind the fact that the last three times he did this, he brought a girl home and fucked the daylights out of her. Never mind the fact that he just happened to hear through the grapevine that it was a primarily Saint-Mary’s and East Highland affair, and therefore there was zero chance of seeing someone he knew, and therefore no one would no he goes out to wild parties to get fucked up, and hopefully, get a real good fuckin’. Never mind he did all of that to try and forget what happened six months ago. Never you mind any of that.

His phone lit up, a text from his best friend Ned illuminating his dark room.

Nedward, first of his name: hey, pete. You still up for our annual end of

summer star wars marathon

Yeeter Parkour: sorry man, no can do. Gotta go on patrol tonight. Forgive me?

Nedward, first of his name: oh nvmnd. Go save the city spider guy!

Oh boy, did that turn the guilt meter up to eleven. The worst part was that wasn’t the first time he used patrolling as an excuse to get out of hanging out with Ned to go partying. And if he was being perfectly honest with himself, it wasn’t gonna be the last...

He growled, taking off his clothes and changing into his spider suit. Fuck it, a quick patrol would ease his guilt. So what if he was fashionably late, it would just mean it would be all the easier to slip into the party without anyone noticing.

Peter stuffed his party attire into a backpack, shouldered said backpack, and leapt out of his bedroom window. And just like that, he was literally and figuratively back in the swing of things. He leisurely swung through Queens, Karen scanning police radio waves. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be anything that the police couldn’t handle themselves happening on that front. So Peter just kept his eyes and ears open for anything suspicious as he casually swung through the borough. 

An hour later, he wished he hadn’t. He saw someone slumped against a dumpster in a cold and dark alley. He decided that was reason enough to just land nearby and do a wellness check. He walked up to the figure, recoiling as his suit HUD showed a very obviously dead body in utter clarity.

“Karen, alert police of a body in the alley of fifth and Camillo street. Teenage female, dark hair, caramel skin. Apparent cause of death: overdose.” He wanted to throw up. To his immense guilt, he was so very, very thankful that it wasn’t Michelle, though there was a distinct resemblance at first glance.

“Police are responding Peter. Do you want to follow through with the investigation?” Karen asked through his masks earpiece. 

“No uh. I th-think they can handle it. Um. Fuck, I just think I’m gonna call it a night. You can go ahead and power down Karen.”

She was silent for a few moments, before replying more robotically than usual, “Very well, Peter. Have a...nice night.” 

Thing was, Peter knew she couldn’t ‘power down’. As long as he was wearing the mask, she was one hundred percent active. That was just a thing he started saying when he didn’t want her keeping track of where he was going next. The thing is though, Karen was smart. She was a Stark-made AI, after all. 

She knew where Peter would be going, and what he was planning to do. But as much as she cared for him, and yes even though she was an AI she had the capacity to care, it wasn’t her place to chastise him. Even though the passive aggressive robotic answer was unusually cold tonight.

* * *

Michelle casually strolled down the barely lit street. She was out of her normal duster, t-shirt, and jean outfit. Instead she wore a short skirt that barely reached her mid thigh, a rainbow patterned halter top that showed off her midriff, and to tie it all together, an opalescent blazer that she raided from her mom’s closet. The thing was straight out of the eighties, and absolutely she loved it. That was the only thing she wore that she liked, to be honest. She hated dressing like this, but she quickly learned that one didn’t tend to get re-invited to parties if they didn’t dress like they wanted to go to them in the first place.

Was it ridiculously dangerous for her to be walking alone? Probably. Was it easier, faster, and safer for her to ride her bike? Also yeah, probably. The thing is, experience had hammered in one singular rule that she followed to an absolute tee: Do not drink and bike. Cue hilariously well timed and edited montage of Michelle careening into walls, garages, dumpsters, etc. Anyway, yeah. Point is, it was dangerous and generally a really bad idea. But come on, this was Michelle Jone’s we’re talking about. Her sense of self preservation was about as strong as soggy rice paper, remember? 

She had just passed a particularly dark and dangerous looking alley, when she heard a voice coming from the other side of a dumpster. That wasn’t what intrigued her however. The soft _thwip_ and vaguely red and blue figure leaping between the buildings did. 

“Huh. Well, I hope you have a nice night spidey. Fuck, I know mine’s gonna be eventful,” she whispered to herself and continued on.

She took precisely nine steps before she was flagged by a passing car. “Hey Casper, need a lift?”

That was a voice she recognized. It was one of her middle school acquaintances, Kat Hernandez. “Why, thank you,” Michelle said in a somewhat suave voice as she hopped into the back seat.

Turns out, the car belonged to another middle school acquaintance of hers, Maddy Perez. The other occupant of the back seat was some other girl she didn’t really know. All Michelle knew was that she really couldn’t stand the sickly sweet candy scented vape she incessantly took hits from.

The girls were engrossed in conversation that Michelle only devoted like five percent of her consciousness to listening to. Apparently Kat was looking to catch a dick tonight, finally let go of her stupid ‘v-card’. Michelle wanted to say that virginity was an inherently sexist concept and ultimately a concept that didn’t exist. Of course, she said nothing. 

Maddy was looking for some good ol’ fashion revenge sex after she and Nate had broken up for the umpteenth time. Michelle wanted to say how bad of an idea that was, that Nate was liable to kick her teeth in or worse. That she should honestly break up with him because he was obviously emotionally abusive and he was a hair's breadth from being physically abusive too. Of course, she said nothing.

They made it to McKay’s party in short order, thankfully. Michelle didn’t know how much more of their inane chatter she could take before she’d tuck and roll out of the moving car. As promised, it was one hell of a party. McKay’s family was more firmly upper middle class. Emphasis on the upper. Their house looked like someone plucked it straight out of Beverly Hills. Fuck, it even had an LED lit pool, a rainbow of colors cascading through the water. Michelle didn’t give a fuck about any of that though.

She beelined to the upstairs bathroom, locking the door behind her. She pulled out a medicine bottle containing a crushed up cocktail of xanax and oxycodone, topped up with one of the crushed mystery pills Ashtray gave her. Just for ‘flavor’. Michelle used one of her house keys to take a couple snuffs out of the bottle and stowed the rest safely in her purse. Was what she did incredibly dangerous? Probably. Of course, she didn’t fucking care.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, she started walking down the hallway… only for her world to literally slowly start turning upside down. Michelle stumbled along the walls, along the ceiling, and back down the other wall, nearly falling flat on her face as gravity seemingly re-aligned to some semblance of normality.

Okay, maybe mixing in psychedelics into her narcotics was a little bit more of a bad idea than she initially calculated. But, as soon as the thought came to her head, it flew away, like a bird taking flight. Along with every other thought that came to her head. Like one of Odin’s ravens, her thoughts went off to travel the world and see the sights. Unlike Huginn of Norse myth, she hoped they’d never come back. 

In a daze, she somehow trudged her way downstairs and onto McKay’s family’s huge ass couch. Fumbling through her purse, she found a joint and a lighter. A few puffs later, she vaguely felt someone sit next to her.

“Yo, you fuckin’ owe me MJ.” Enough of her synapses fired to let her recognize the voice, at least. It was Fez.

“Sorry man, I forgot.” A lame excuse, but like, give her a break. She was soaring on cloud nine by now.

“Naw, I ain’t trippin’.” See, that’s why Michelle liked Fez so much, cuz like. He liked her enough that he gave her special treatment. Michelle passed him her joint, a little courtesy that maybe sorta made up for it, but totally didn’t.

He took a long hit from it, speaking as he exhaled. “To be honest, MJ, your whole drug thing makes me feel uneasy.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, flipping him the bird. Even high as a kite, Michelle was still Michelle. “Don’t go soft on me, man.”

“Nah, I’m not. Honest. But like. I like you, kid. I missed you. That shit at the beginning of summer had me scared as fuck.”

Great. Now she felt guilty. Or like, would have, if the drugs weren’t keeping her from feeling any sort of emotion. But like, in ten hours when she was sober, she’d remember this conversation and then the guilt would hit.

“You and everyone else, man.” Was her only reply.

“Nah, I’m serious MJ. I’ve seen a lot of people die. None like you. I don’t know what kinda fucked up shit you got goin’ in our head, and I don’ really know how to help. But I know one thing. Drugs aren’t the answer, Michelle.” 

Fucking hell. Michelle loved Fez like a brother, and maybe that was how what he was saying was able to penetrate the drug induced haze clouding her head. But for fucks sake, she just wanted to be ride her high and not give a shit. Which is why she turned to dirty fuckin’ tactics.

“I remember when I was thirteen years old, and my dad was first diagnosed. Prognosis was real good, at first. He was normal… happy even. Then another prognosis came back. It was bad. Really. Fuckin’. Bad. He had a tumor in the frontal cortex of his brain. Totally inoperable. His hope died and… and he changed, man. He never got violent but… he yelled all the time. I dunno. Honestly, it was probably the tumor that caused the personality changes but… I couldn’t take it. I saw how his OCs made him feel. That was the only time he didn’t care… he was free… I wanted that too, man. So I snuck a couple pills one day and… I was free too.” Michelle took another hit from the joint.

“Anyway, dad died. Obviously. But I found another way to live.” Michelle didn’t even know if what she was saying was making any sense. At first she just wanted to take Fez on a guilt trip to get him to drop the subject, but it quickly turned into something too real. Fuck. She needed more drugs.

Luckily Fez dropped the issue. “Fuck, kid. I’m too high to be feelin’ like this.”

“Me too… me fuckin’ too..” She replied, her pleasant high punctuated by emotions that she really, really didn’t wanna be feeling right now.

* * *

Peter couldn’t swing through the suburbs, obviously. There was nothing high up enough for his webs to anchor to. So, he went home, changed out of his suit and called an Uber. Not that he or May had the money to spare, but he really didn’t care at this point. He just wanted to get to the party and forget. 

Like he predicted, he made it long after the party started, right as it really started kicking into high gear. And also like he predicted, not a single fucking person cared that he didn’t know any of them. He beelined it to the kitchen, taking shot after shot of straight liquor. Thanks to his powers, it took a lot of alcohol before he really started to feel it. He felt sorry for whoever’s liquor cabinet he just raided, cuz he alone polished off a bottle of Absolut, another bottle of Silver Patron, and a whole fucking bottle of 190 proof Everclear to wash it all down.

Then, and only then, did he really started to feel it. The lightheadedness, the rush of confidence, the vague feeling of nausea at the very back of his mind, all of it. He started chatting up a girl who looked around his age. She was just a tad chubby, and had a really pretty face, not that he cared all that much. What he really cared about was that she understood his shirt pun and that she liked Star Wars, and that she really, REALLY seemed like she wanted to get some action tonight.

He was about to ask her if she wanted to blow the party and come with him to his apartment when he heard a commotion coming from the back yard. He was really, really drunk. But that didn’t mean his sense of do-goodyness (Was that even a thing? Fuck he had a lot of alcohol.) wasn’t any duller. “H-hey, there’s something I gotta check out, but I’ll be ruh” he hiccuped, “Right back, okay?”

The nice girl shrugged, “Whatever, hon. Just be quick, kay?”

Peter shambled to the source of the hubbub, something going on in the backyard pool. Turns out, some chick was banging a guy in public, riding him in the middle of the pool. 

“Oh fuck this, I’m out,” Peter said as soon as he realized what was going on. He smartly, at least he thought at the time, noped right out of there and went back to the kitchen to get another drink or seventeen.

He wasn’t the only one distracted by the pool fucking though. Michelle, being Michelle, wanted to see what was drawing half the partygoers to the pool. And like Peter, she an eyeful more of Maddy than she was willing to deal with tonight.

“For fucks sake, Maddy…” She whispered to herself, turning away just in time to catch a glimpse of a painfully familiar blue plaid shirt. “No fucking way…”

She followed the plaid clad lad to the kitchen. He opened up McKay’s parent’s liquor cabinet. After he found it depressingly empty, he turned around awkwardly and… yup. Against all odds, squeaky clean Peter goddamned Parker showed up to a party that she was certain would have been way out of his lane. 

Unfortunately for Peter, by now Nate had seen that his (ex) girlfriend was riding some stranger’s dick in the middle of the goddamned pool. Like Peter, he decided to drink away what he just saw. He was already fucking pissed when he entered the kitchen, but when he wasn’t able to find a single bottle with anything of value in it, he flew into a rage. 

“For fucks sake! Where’d all the booze go?” He screamed to nobody in particular as he started chucking empty bottles haphazardly around the kitchen.

Peter was still in the corner, sitting in abject horror, hoping nobody would rat him out. And of course, everyone and their mother pointed there stupid fingers at him in motherfucking unison. It was at this moment Peter knew, he fucked up.

“Look man, was that your liquor cabinet? I swear man, I’ll reimburse you-” Peter started.

“What the fuck!” Nate cut him off. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Uh, I’m Peter… Parker…”

Michelle, who was quietly watching all of this transpire from the safety of the nearby crowd, literally facepalmed. Why the fuck did he give Nate fucking Jacobs of all people his real name?

“Does anyone know who this is?” Nate screamed to the crowd. Michelle knew. She really liked Peter, but fuck. She did not wanna get in Nate’s crosshairs, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Does anyone know who Peter is? Any one?” Nate reiterated. The crowd was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Yo, someone better speak up, or this fuckin’ nerd is gonna get fucked up!”

In all honesty, Peter wasn’t scared of this guy. Sure, he was like a foot taller than him and probably had a couple dozen pounds more muscle then Peter, but like. Come on. Peter was Spider-man. He helped save the fucking world from a genocidal purple alien six months ago. One hit, one solid hit was all it would take, and Nate would go down. The thing was, Peter was so hammered that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull his punch. If he knocked Nate down, there was very, very little chance that he’d ever get up again.

So Peter did the only thing he could think of. He pulled a kitchen knife. That alone was enough to get Nate to back up outta his face. But Peter knew it would only work for so long, and could probably land him with an assault charge if the hulk wanna be decided to continue roiding out. So Peter calmly laid his hand on the hardwood countertop, spreading his fingers out. And slowly, calmly started playing a knife game. You know the one where you stab the spaces between your fingers? The one that every hard-boiled tough guy plays in all the movies? That one.

“You wanna hurt me?” Peter started slow, then sped up… faster… and faster until his hand was practically a blur, the knife blade flashing in the fluorescent lights. “You wanna fucking hurt me? Well good fucking luck pal!” Peter raised the knife high, and stabbed it clear through his own hand. Peter wordlessly screamed as he wrenched the knife free of his hand, and dropped the bloody blade into the nearby sink. "I'm fucking _invincible_!"

Blood dripped down his hand, as he silently and calmly stepped towards Nate. Nate took a step back. Peter stepped forward again, and Nate tried to step back, only he bumped into the kitchen counter. Peter stepped forward again, and with his bloody hand, took Nate by the throat.

And instantly, Nate knew he was in trouble, if it wasn’t already fucking obvious. This reedy little nerd was stronger than he looked. Far, far stronger. Luckily for Nate, Peter wasn’t choking him out, just holding him in place by the throat. Nate tried to wrench the bloody hand away from his neck, but even using every single ounce of his considerable strength, Peter didn’t budge. 

“Please, man. I didn’t mean anything by it. Fuck, it was just a fucking joke!” Nate begged as blood kept dripping down his neck and onto his chest. It wasn’t his, but it that didn’t make it any less unsettling.

“Peter! Let him go!” Michelle had to say something. That cold… dead look in Peter’s eyes… She recognized it, though she never in a million years think she’d see it in him.

He didn’t seem to hear her at first, so she stepped forward from the crowd. She walked up to him. “He’s not worth it Peter. Just let him go.” She whispered as she carefully pulled Peter’s hand away from Nate’s throat. She held his bloody hand as Peter closed his eyes.

And when he opened them again, they were brown, doe eyed, alive and expressive as usual… but they weren’t bright and hopeful like Michelle remembered.

“Sorry about that, everyone!” Peter said cheerily. It was fucking eerie, how easily he switched back to his happy-go-lucky persona. “I’m Peter, by the way. I go to Midtown Tech.” He found a nearby kitchen towel, sprinkling it with the few drops of alcohol that remained of the Everclear bottle, and tied it around his still bleeding hand.

Nate took the opportunity to slink away, and the assembled party-goers quietly backed away, separating into their own little cliques to chatter away about what they just saw. Michelle could faintly hear Maddy’s screams of ecstasy over the dull roar of everyone’s conversation. She didn’t care. And apparently everyone else stopped caring too.

Peter walked out of the kitchen, the sea of people parting for him well before he approached. It looked like everyone was equally terrified of him. Not Michelle though. Well, actually she was scared shitless, so much so that no drug could dull that terror. But she wasn’t scared of Peter, more like that she was scared _for_ him.

She followed him out of the house, and saw him waiting by the mailbox for something. She slowly walked up to him.

“Really, after all that you’re gonna try and sneak up on… oh.” Peter said as he turned around, expecting Nate to be the one trying to get the jump on him. To his surprise, it was Michelle who was awkwardly standing in the middle of the lawn. 

“Hey,” he shyly greeted.

“Hey yourself,” she effortlessly replied. “What the hell are you doing here, Peter?”

“Uh… waiting for my Uber home… Why?”

“No you dork,” and just like that it was like they were at school, bantering back and forth. “Why are you here at this particular party.”

Peter shrugged, “For the same reason you are, I guess. To get fucked up one last time before school starts, why else?”

Michelle sputtered in disbelief. “D-do you even know anyone here? Besides me?”

“Uh, no. Do _you_ know any of those people?”

“Yes… I went to middle school with most of them, so like, I was invited.” 

“Oh,” Peter replied lamely.

“So what’re you gonna do now?” Michelle asked.

“Uh… Go home? I already called an Uber, remember?”

Oh, right. Some of the drugs might be still working then. Her memory was normally really sharp. “Right… uh… Mind if I… Come along?” She asked before she even knew what she was saying.

“Sure,” Peter replied, equally on instinct. He seemed thoughtful for a second. “Full disclosure though. Aunt May is working graveyard so…”

“So?” Michelle asked. Why the fuck should that matter?

“Right, yeah… Okay…” Peter rambled awkwardly as the Uber pulled up.

* * *

Thankfully the driver didn’t mention anything about the bloody rag tied around Peter’s hand. He just motioned for them to get in the back, and didn’t give a fuck as long as he got paid. He was an uber driver in New York City, for fucks sake. Nothing phased him at this point. Michelle remembered the bloody rag only as some of his blood dripped onto her skirt. “Fuck, Peter… shouldn’t we go to the hospital instead?”

Peter vehemently shook his head. “Nope. Too many questions I don’t wanna answer. Besides, I got something at home that’ll do the trick.”

They spent the rest of the trip in silence. For some reason, it wasn’t awkward. At least, it didn’t feel awkward for Michelle. She just enjoyed Peter’s silent company as the Uber pulled up to what she assumed was Peter’s apartment building.

His apartment was nice. Certainly nicer than what Michelle expected, if the look of the rest of the building was anything to go by. It was clean, orderly, but obviously lived in. It made Michelle feel at ease. She hated mess, disorder, slobbery, even though her room was a regular pig stie. That didn’t mean she liked it, that just meant she was too depressed to do anything about it. But she also didn’t like a living space that was too clean either. Too picture perfect. It always felt to her like something was just waiting to go horribly wrong.

Peter nonchalantly walked into what she assumed was his room. She followed suit. And yup, it was obviously Peter’s room alright. The desk was littered with vintage electronics. But in a work-shop way, not in a cluttered way that would set her teeth on edge. His walls were plastered with movie posters, over half of them Star Wars related. 

He rummaged through his desk drawer, finding whatever he was looking for after a few moments. Peter sat on his bed, and Michelle sat next to him, trying to remember it was no big deal. Cuz it wasn’t. She watched in mild disgust as Peter unwrapped his impromptu bandage. In his other hand was some kind of spray bottle, the contents of which he liberally sprayed onto the back of his hand.

To her horror, she realized the cut actually went through his hand, his palm sporting a nasty exit wound. Peter didn’t seem to care, spraying his palm with the same liquid. Peter squeezed both the entry and exit wounds together, the liquid hardening and thus sealing it.

“It’s a non-toxic polymer Tony and I developed to seal all kinds of stuff. It works really well on stab wounds.” Peter answered her unasked question. 

Right, the Stark Internship. Honestly, she fucking hated Eugene Thompson, but up until now too kinda suspected Peter was making the internship thing up as an excuse to get out of decathlon practice. 

“So like, why didn’t Stark distribute this to hospitals and stuff? Like, it seems kind of life saving, don’t you think?” And there she was, the snarky asshole that always had to see the glass as half empty. The drugs somehow must have already wore off, because otherwise she’d never say something so callous.

Peter’s mood instantly plummeted like a rock. “Actually uh… That was one of the last things we developed together before… uh, before he died. And we did. Distribute it to medical centers. All over the world. For free.”

Oh, now she felt like a total douche. “Oh… I’m… I’m sorry. I… uh… I always say the wrong thing…” Her fucked up world view wasn’t an excuse to be shitty to the people she actually gave a shit about. She knew that, and still she said fucked up shit like that all the fucking time.

Peter seemed to sense her self loathing. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s good that you ask questions like that. He… he liked being told stuff like that all the time. It was so weird. He said it kept him honest. He would have liked you, I think.” 

“Oh,” Michell replied lamely. It was all she trusted herself to say right now.

“So yeah, I’m beat. I guess. Uh, you can take my bed. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

Michelle shook her head. “Oh, no way. I’m not kicking you out of your bed, Parker. But on the other hand, I don’t feel like sleeping on your couch either.” She paused, unsure about what to say next. “Like, two friends can platonically share a bed without it being weird right?” That would have to do.

Peter looked a little nervous and seemed to think it through. “Yeah, why the hell not.” He got up and shrugged out of his plaid t-shirt and graphic-t, throwing both into the hamper in his closet before he realized what he did. “Uh, you don’t mind if I…?” He asked lamely.

“No, dork. I’m the guest here. Do whatever you do to make yourself comfortable,” she said more confidently than she felt. She literally couldn’t take her eyes off his washboard abs. Hopefully he didn’t notice.

Peter stripped out of his jeans, leaving himself only in his boxers. “Sorry, I can’t really sleep otherwise…”

Michelle was so, so very thankful for her darker complexion, cuz otherwise she’d be doing a very good impression of a ripe tomato. “N-no uh. Like I said, nerd. You do you.”

Peter laid down on one side of his queen sized bed, trying to give Michelle as much space as possible. Michelle rolled her eyes and laid down next to him, so close that their arms were touching. Like she said, totally platonic. 

They couldn’t take their eyes off each other. Before either of them knew what each other was doing, they both brushed an errant lock of hair out of each other’s faces. Well, Peter brushed a lock behind Michelle’s ear, while she pushed his bangs back off his forehead. His bangs had fallen down when he lost his shit at Nate, and it was bugging her all this time. At least, that was her excuse. She also just wanted to touch him, but like, she’d never admit it. Peter’s excuse was that he just wanted to see if her hair was as soft as it looked. It was. A totally platonic response, nothing else. Totally. Platonic. 

Michelle had to break the sexual tension somehow, before they did something they’d… well, not regret exactly, but do something that their relationship wasn’t ready for.

“Hey, I got an idea.” She posited.

“Yeah?” Peter replied, intrigued.

“Wanna get high?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no idea how this is gonna turn out. For now I'm going to loosely follow the events of Euphoria, and have that story be set in the MCU. I don't know yet who I'm going to bring in from each fandom. What I do know is that its gonna be a mixed cast from each, and that some characters are unfortunately going to be dropped purely because if I kept them all it would be a hectic shit show. I know Jules isn't gonna play much of a role in this... she might not appear at all, to be honest. I'm kind of having Peter taker her place. Which I know is kind of a no-no because like, obviously queer romance just doesn't get represented enough and I'm kind of making this hetero-normative. But like, how else am I gonna get my sweet, sweet Spideychelle? The only way I'd see it working out is if I made it a love-triangle or polyamorous relationship. And I hate love-triangles. I'm fine with poly relationships, but like, I've never been in one myself and I don't know if I could tell that kind of story in a respectful way. 
> 
> Oh, and if it wasn't obvious, I kind of mashed up Rue and Michelle into one vaguely defined character. I took MJ's general world views and turned them on their head to make it a dark and kind of dangerous character trait. Like, to be honest, MJ's 'dark' sense of humor, along with the subtle hints that she doesn't have the most stable home life make it easy to assume that she could also have dangerously nihilistic and self destructive personal philosophies. I just turned it up to eleven, and gave her Rue's home life, a sprinkling of Rue's mental health issues, and obviously Rue's hook into drug addiction.
> 
> Anyway, this note has gone on long enough. I don't know if I covered everything I wanted to in my first chapter note, so if anyone has questions about the world building or character stuff, feel free to ask in the comments. As long as I don't perceive them to be too spoilery (I don't have much planned, but I do have plans, if that makes sense.), I'll do my best to answer them. Constructive criticism is welcome. That means, comments about grammar, syntax, plot structure, characterization, pacing, gaping plot holes, that kind of stuff. "I dun' like yer dum story!" isn't constructive criticism, and I can't believe people still think stuff like that.


	2. Episode 2:Stiff upper lip, grin and bear it, put on the brave face.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle visits a friend. And along with Peter, she tries to survive a harrowing first day of junior year.

_I’ve always tried to keep a positive outlook on life. That being said, even I gotta admit I got dealt one shitty hand. My parents were nice, kind people. A little on the young side to have a kid, but it wasn’t like I was unplanned or unwanted or anything._

_They did the best they could with what they had. Which to be fair, was more than most. Even though they disappeared when I was six, I remember they had enough spare time that I hardly ever needed a babysitter, and that we lived in a small but decent house in Queens. So like, money was never an issue. I did have medical problems though. Both my parents were the picture of health. Neither of them even had so much as a pollen allergy._

_So how the fuck did I manage to get saddled with half a dozen food allergies, a severe pollen allergy, allergy to dander, dust, mold, spores, allergy after fucking allergy. Oh, I also had asthma too. And persistent heart palpitations that didn’t let me play any sports growing up. That’s why I got into nerdy shit from an early age. Stay indoors, play video games and watch movies, that’s all I could ever safely fucking do as a kid._

_It isolated me, kept me from making any real or lasting friends. But hey, I had the best parents that anyone could ask for, so it was even right? Did I mention that they disappeared when I was six? Yeah, left me at my aunt and uncle’s for a weekend, boarded a flight and were never seen or heard from again. Ben and May told me over and over again that they loved me so very, very dearly. That something had to have happened to them because they’d never in a million years leave me._

_They could tell me that until they were blue in the face, but like. It didn’t stop me from suspecting that my dear mom and dad pawned me off to Ben and May because they couldn’t stand having such a sickly, nerdy, pathetic spawn for a son. I know that’s not true. I know they loved me. But like, that doesn’t stop the intrusive thoughts, ya know?_

_Still, I tried to stay positive. So what if my parents disappeared out of the blue? I still had Ben and May, and they always made it clear that they loved me, they would take care of me, they would raise me. I was happy. So happy, and thankful for that._

_Even though I knew they didn’t really want kids to begin with. Even though the unexpected expense of having to raise a six year old forced Uncle Ben to take a second job. Even though my persistent and worsening health issues caused so much financial trouble for them that they were forced to sell their house and move into a crappy two bedroom apartment. I was happy, because they loved me. Right? Right…?_

_Sorry lost my composure for a second. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was happy because I was loved, and throughout all this bullshit I tried to stay positive. Anyway, everything changed when my freshman year of high school. Oh, did I mention that I’m super smart? It was literally the only redeeming quality about me back then. That’s not me being arrogant. I literally tested so high in my standardized tests that Midtown School of Science and Technology, the most prestigious private high school in New York, offered me a full ride scholarship. Okay, now that I say that out loud, it does sound kind of arrogant. But honestly, people say I’m crazy smart. Anyway, yeah. Everything changed my freshman year of high school._

_Well, not like, on the first day. It was six or so months in when we had a field trip to Stark Industries’ Genetic Lab. It was a cool field trip, at least, from what I can remember. See, that day one of their techs did a shitty job of securing one of their genetically altered spiders, and it got loose from its enclosure. And wouldn’t you know it, it landed on my sleeve, crawled up my arm and bit me in the neck. That was the last thing I consciously remembered from that day. Ned tells me apparently I acted normal for the rest of the field trip, nothing unusual. Nothing zombie like. I wouldn’t know. The next thing I can clearly recall is being sick as a dog for the next three days. Fever, nausea, vomiting, cold sweats, the fucking works. Ben and May were so worried that despite their lack of funds they wanted to take me to the hospital. But miraculously on the fourth day I was fine._

_In fact, I was more than fine. I literally never felt better. I could see in perfect crystal clear vision, without my stupid coke bottle glasses. I could eat whatever the fuck I wanted without keeling over from anaphalactic shock. And for the first time in my life I could go outside and not have to worry about suddenly not being able to breathe._

_And that wasn’t even the best part. I grew three whole inches in a week, bringing me up from 5’4” to a… only slightly more impressive 5’7”. But like, three whole inches of height, I’m not gonna complain. And I was ripped. Like, despite never working out a day in my life, I had gained almost twenty-five pounds of pure muscle. I went from a borderline anorexic twig of a teenager to someone with a nice, healthy athletic build. May describes it as a runner’s body, lean and thin without being super bulky. And that’s just the mundane stuff._

_Did I mention I also got super powers? Like, I have between fifteen and twenty times the average human strength. I know, that’s a huge range but I’ve never had the proper equipment to really test myself, so I got to estimate. Also, I’m super sticky! Weird power, I know. And it took me a long time to like, not incessantly stick to every single solid fucking object I came in contact with. But, it does let me wall crawl. Which is super cool. I also have enhanced senses. Like, ridiculously good vision, hearing and smell. Too good, sometimes. I still occasionally get sensory overload from just walking down the street. And I figured out when I accidentally gouged a two inch deep cut into my hand with a dull knife in culinary class that I also have accelerated healing. Two inch deep, four inch long cut. Healed completely overnight without so much as a hint of scarring._

_I had no idea about the source of my incredible powers until one day I found a dead_ _desiccated spider in with my laundry. It looked vaguely familiar, but I never could place where I saw it before… until I found a pamphlet for the Stark Genetics Lab while I was cleaning out my backpack. And right there on the cover was a blown up picture of the spider I found in my clothes. Then it clicked. Somehow, I got bit by a genetically enhanced spider and gained a couple spider traits myself. Except for the healing bit. I don’t know where that comes from. I’ve never heard of a fast healing spider before, but like. It’s whatever._

_Anyway, I should have known it was too good to be true. Every time something good happens to me, something a thousand times more terrible has to come along and balance that shit out. My uncle Ben died. And it was my fault._

_I was being a dumb moody brat, I left him alone in an alleyway after a stupid argument. So he had to walk home, in the middle of the night, alone in a shitty part of town. He was mugged. The guy shot him over something so stupid as sixty bucks and a couple of credit cards. I heard it. Of course I heard it, I have super hearing remember. But not a super sense of direction. I didn’t realize until a whole five minutes later that the shot came from the last place I saw Ben. It took me a whole ‘nother five minutes more to get back to him. Ten minutes. I had at least ten minutes to get him to the hospital. Ten minutes might have been enough to save his life._

_Oh, who am I kidding? I could have killed that fucking mugger in one fucking punch, before he even drew his gun. I shouldn’t have been such a fucking terrible son- uh, nephew. I mean nephew. I shouldn’t have ran off like a petulant child. I should have been there to protect him. See? You guys get it now. It is my fault. One hundred fucking percent my fault._

_Oh, jeez, I just checked the time. I’ve been holding you beautiful people up for… for quite a while now. So like, do you mind if I skip ahead a little bit? I get the feeling you guys know most of this. I’m gonna ahead skip to where everything really went to shit._

_So like, a year(ish) goes by. I dealt with a little kerfuffle involving a disagreement with the Avengers (Holy fuckin’ shit, that was actually awesome guys, not gonna lie.), and put an alien tech powered arms dealer behind bars. Also broke up with my first girlfriend but like, not a big deal. Anyway. A year(ish) goes by right? And out of nowhere this giant fucking metal space donut lands in New York city, bringing another alien invasion along with it._

_Uh, its a long… really painful story, so I’m gonna skip most of it. Big details are as follows: Giant purple alien titan guy comes to earth looking for something called the Infinity Stones. He wants to use them to wipe out half of all life in the universe. After a lot of difficult bullshit, he finds them and creates his stupid fucking golden power-glove of doom. He has literally all the power in the universe, about to snap his fingers, half the world is gonna be dust and… and uh… Well… I… I really don’t wanna go into details but um. Tony died. He died to save the world. Jesus fuck… he never even got to meet Morgie… Um… I… I’ll be okay, just… g-give me a minute guys will ya? Bear with me…_

_Uh… A-anyway. That f-fucked me up for a while. I stopped going out as Spider-man after that. I was gonna hang up the suit permanently. I thought I couldn’t handle it. Then one day, three months after… after it all went to shit, I decided to go out with my suit. You know, swing through the city a bit, clear my head. Actually… I think you guys kinda know what happened from there…_

* * *

“Um… what is it exactly?” Peter asked, staring intently into a little dime bag containing two innocuous looking pills.

Michelle shrugged, “No idea. Well I got some idea.” Michelle rattled off the stupidly long name she miraculously remembered from Ash’s upsell. 

Peter rolled the name around in his head, the chemical formula, its uses and side effects swimming to the forefront of his brain. “Huh. A psychedelic, but a little less potent than LSD. Non-habit forming, just a weird trippy high…”

Michelle snapped her fingers. “Yeah, that’s it. Point to Peter Parker of Midtown Tech.”

She was trying to use humor to deflect. It wouldn’t work. He stared into her eyes. Honestly. This was a bad idea. When he closed his eyes he could still see them, little freeze-framed snapshots of the night he saved her life. Paradoxically, one of the worst and most fortunate nights of his life. But honestly, at the party he knew just from looking at her that she was already breaking her commitment to stay clean...

His metabolism was so fast that honestly it probably wouldn’t even affect him. Plus… the ‘stupid, reckless, mad sciency part’ of his brain collaborated with the ‘nihilistic, fed up, totaly done with the world’ part, and together they overhwhelmed the ‘boring voice of reason’ part. “Sure, what the hell.”

And in a truly disconcerting short amount of time he and Michelle were huddled under his blankets, just… staring at each other. Peter watched with morbid fascination as tiny red and blue spiderlings crawled their way out of Michelle’s tear ducts and cascaded down her cheeks like some kind of non-newtonian fluid. It really should have freaked him out, but for some reason he couldn’t stop laughing? How the hell was that funny? I guess the teeny tiny spiders were kind of cute.

Michelle faired similarly to Peter. She giggled away as black tendrils of some kind of tar like fluid creeped up Peter’s neck. It reminded her of awful crude oil; thick, viscous and oddly opalescent. She should have been terrified, seeing the pitch black tendrils slowly taking over Peter’s face. But again, for some stupid reason it was the funniest shit in the world to her.

They stayed like that for a long time. Giggling like school kids at the sight of horrifying things happening to each other’s bodies. A few hours later, it started to wear off. The two of them, ever the scientists, sat down to compare and contrast their psychedelic experiences.

“Okay, so like. That was really fucking cool. But like, terrifying now that I’m more or less sober.” Peter said, laid down on the floor with his head in Michelle’s lap. 

Michelle idly ran her fingers through his curls, sitting on the floor and leaning limply against Peter’s bedroom wall. “Yeah…. Yeah I agree. Let’s like… never do that again.” Michelle replied. 

And she meant it. She was all for drugs, but like, only the kinds that made her feel euphoric. Not the ones that made her feel giddy one second then paranoid about the talking Star Wars posters the next.

“Cool,” Peter said, raising his arm to her. “Let’s shake on it. Whatever that fucking was, never fucking again.”

Michelle took his hand. “Whatever that was, never again,” she parroted.

Peter smiled, still just a _little_ bit loopy, before suddenly bolting upright. “May’s home.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow, “How do you fuckin’ know?”

Peter leapt up, motioning for her to get under his bed. “I can hear her unlocking the door. You gotta hide. Go! Gogogo!” He said as he shooed her under his bed.

Michelle shook her head. She didn’t hear anything. Maybe Peter was still having auditory hallucinations? But she humored him anyway and shimmied under his bed. 

And sure as shit, his aunt May knocked on the bedroom door a few seconds later. “Peter, you awake? Do you have any laundry to do? I really should do a load before I go to bed.”

“Uh, yeah May. Hold on. I’m just getting changed real quick,” Peter called as she hurriedly pulled on a shirt and pajama bottoms.

“You decent? I’m coming in to get your hamper.” May replied, giving Peter exactly ten seconds before she opened the door.

Peter awkwardly leaned against the wall, frozen in one of those poses that screamed ‘I am totally _not_ lying, honest!’. “Yeah, we’re cool. I mean- I’m cool. Everythings… cool…” 

May raised a single solitary eyebrow. “Really? Then why did Dean tell me he saw you bring a girl into the apartment last night? Again?”

Peter shrugged. “Pshhah, Dean? That old lobby guard? He’s getting up in years May.” He whispered conspiratorially, leaning in and cupping a hand to his face. “I think he might be going senile.”

May looked personally affronted, and for good reason. “Peter, he’s only like ten years older than me.” May leaned copying Peter’s whisper, “Also, I saw your girlfriend’s shoes at the door. And her feet are peeking out from under your bed.”

The bed shook with a light thud, and a muffled “Ow,” came from under the frame.

“Peter! The jig is up already! Just… just help me get outta here.” Michelle’s arm flailed wildly on the floor, searching for some kind of purchase to drag herself from under his bed. For some stupid reason, she could get herself in, but she couldn’t get out.

Peter groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. With one lone arm he lifted one side of the queen sized bed, sheets, frame, and all. MJ’s eyebrows furrowed as she crawled free from her dust-bunny filled prison. Peter sure was strong… She busied herself by brushing the dust bunnies off of her borrowed coat while Peter got an ‘admonishing’.

May crossed her arms. “I think we have to establish some new rules young man,” May began. 

Peter braced himself for the coming storm.

“Rule number one, no sneaking partners in. As long as you give me a day or two of notice, I’ll find a way to give you the apartment for a night. Rule number two, ask for consent. For everything, got it? Remember that no means no, but a yes under duress is also means no. And that anyone can change their mind about anything for any reason. Never, _ever_ pressure anyone for anything. Rule number three. They have to be around your age. Statutory is a serious charge, Peter. Rule number four, wait… this should be rule number one. Well, one or two. They’re both equally important. What I said earlier can be rule number four. Anyway, new rule number one slash two. Always,” she said poking him in the chest to emphasise the point. “Always use a condom. I don’t care if she tells you she’s on the pill or an IUD or some other kind of birth control implant, you always… _always_ use a condom.” May sighed. “Bottom line Peter. I think it's fine you’re exploring sexuality, as long as you’re safe. I just don’t like the sneaking around, kay?”

Peter cautiously opened an eye, then the other, before slowly untensing his body.

Michelle was impressed. Aunt May was actually really cool and understanding. That didn’t stop her from bracing herself when May turned to address her.

“That reminds me. Hello! My name’s May. I just need to know some stuff for my piece of mind-” May began.

Michelle anticipated what she was going to ask and answered ahead of time, ticking her fingers down as she answered each predicted question. “Pleasure to meet you. My name’s Michelle. I’m seventeen years old. Peter didn’t do anything that I didn’t give him express permission for, and of course, I asked for consent as well. I mean like. We would have asked each other, if we actually did anything remotely sexual. I’m his decathlon team captain, see. We were just talking about… life and stuff. I try to keep my relationships with team member’s friendly, yet platonic. It’s just better that way.”

She could tell May was having a hard time believing that, based on how Michelle was dressed. But that didn’t stop May from cheerily replying, “Oh, well. That’s good. Nice to meet you Michelle. I’m not really all that tired yet. Let me make you a stack of wheat cakes. Unless you’re gluten free. In which case I can figure out something else for breakfast.”

“Oh, wheat cakes would be lovely, thank you.” Michelle didn’t know what wheat cakes were, exactly. But she did know that she was really god-damned hungry.

And that was how Michelle Jones met the lovely ball joyful energy that was May Parker.

* * *

Let it be known. Michelle was fucked. Not literally but like. Oh so figuratively. Her mom had seriously blown up her phone last night. Over a hundred texts that got progressively more angry and hopelessly worried as the night progressed. Fifty missed calls. Thirty voice mails. She was so. So very fucked.

Well, at the very least Michelle found out what wheat cakes were. And holy shit, they were amazing. See, Michelle was never a big pancake fan. At least, not for breakfast. They always felt a little too much on the desert side of the spectrum to really feel like a fulfilling breakfast for her. Wheat cakes, she found out, were like pancakes only… wheatier, if that made sense. They were definitely on the savory side, which Michelle appreciated. She didn’t even need to eat them with maple syrup, though she did anyway because like… why the fuck not?

After breakfast, Peter was nice enough to walk her to the door. “Do you want me to walk you home or…?” Peter trailed off.

“Peter, I’m a big girl. I can find my own way home. Besides, I gotta stop at a friends house for something anyway.” Michelle replied. “But, I had a lot of fun, your aunt is the best. And like… I’ll see you at school? I guess?” She had a feeling their relationship was forever gonna be different after this. Especially since she lightly kissed him on the cheek before walking away with a curt wave. 

She frettet about that all the way to Lexi’s house. A kiss. On the cheek. What the fuck was she? Five fuckin’ years old? She did it out of impulse and like. She didn’t regret it or anything. How could she, it was such a chaste fucking gesture. But she knew it spoke volumes. If only she could figure out what those volumes actually were. Then she’d really be cooking with fire.

A thirty minute jaunt across town brought her to the doorstep of her… well... She guessed it would be kind of proper to call Lexi Howard her best friend still. Like, they did spend most of their childhood together. But the thing was, Michelle was a shitty fuckin’ friend, and she knew it. She probably hadn’t said ten words to Lexi since the start of high school. Well, outside of decathlon, that is. Michelle was the decathlon captain, and Lexi was their poli-sci and history expert. Funny thing. Those were subjects Michelle was inordinately familiar with too. It was literally the only thing they still had in common. How fucking sad was that? She was pulled out of her revery by said pseudo best friend opening the door and ushering her inside.

“Hey Michelle!” Lexi greeted so… so heart achingly warmly. Despite them not really having anything remotely resembling a friendship lately, she still was so… so unfailingly nice to Michelle. It made what came next so very, very difficult. And what ensured Lexi would do it, mostly no questions asked.

“Hey Lex! Listen, I need a real big favor,” Michelle began before leaning in to whisper into her ear. “I need you pee in this bottle for me. Please?” She asked as she passed Lexi the small white bottle with a tiny red nozzle that could nearly perfectly mimic the stream of… well, you get the idea.

The disappointment on Lexi’s face was obvious. “Seriously?” She whispered back. She went upstairs to the bathroom anyway.

“Hey Michelle… How was rehab?” Slurred a voice from the dining room.

“Shit,” Michelle cursed under her breath as she cautiously walked into the home. 

Mrs. Howard, a middle-aged single mom, and you guessed it, consummate alcoholic sat at the dinner table. Of course she just had to be sipping away at a glass of white wine. Lexi’s older sister, Cassie, sat at the head of the table. While Lexi was cute and mousie, Cassie was… Well, to be honest, what most people would consider classically beautiful. She also had inordinately big boobs for her age. That helped too.

“It was good, really really good.” Michelle had a hard time keeping the nervousness out of her voice. 

“Oh, that’s good,” the older woman replied. “How long have you been back?”

“Oh, like three days.” 

Mrs. Howard raised her glass in a mock cheer. “A new chapter.” 

Michelle could hear the sarcasm dripping from every slurred syllable. The fucking bat knew. She knew that Michelle almost immediately went out and got high. The thing was, Michelle knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. Because honestly, she was one to fucking talk, with all the shit she put her family through.

“Mom!” Cassie whisper-shouted, honestly affronted that her mother would be so… forward with her thinly veiled contempt.

That was why Michelle liked Cassie. She saw the bullshit for what it was. She knew how hypocritical her mom was being with her barely concealed mocking. 

Michelle was saved from that awkward conversation by the soft rhythmic thuds of Lexi coming back down the stairs. She noped the fuck out of that conversation, turning on her heels back to the door. She met Lexi halfway. Lexi did a slick hand off of the white bottle, spinning around to body block it from her mother’s gaze. Not that it mattered. Mrs. Howard already deduced why Michelle was here.

“Here’s the lip gloss you wanted,” Lexi said, sacrificing her favorite gloss to the abyss that was ‘the pit of stuff that Michelle borrowed and forgot to give back’. 

Michelle gave her a hug, whispering, “Thank you so much,” into her ear. And with that, she left.

Ducking into a nearby grove of bushes, Michelle hiked up her skirt and affixed the small white bottle high up on her inner thigh using self adhering surgical wrap. That made it all too easy to fake a pee test. Also, the wrap was useful for insulating it. Urine tests measured temperature too, after all.

* * *

Michelle walked through the front door of her mom’s house almost a full sixteen hours after leaving it. Her mom was fucking pissed, to say the least, but for good reason.

“God _dammit_ Michelle! Where the _fuck_ were you last nignt?!” 

Yup, that took all of three fucking seconds. 

“I was at a friend’s house, okay?” Michelle responded fairly calmly, given the situation.

“Oh, a _friend’s_ house, hm?” A reply dripping with sarcasm. “I called Lexi last night. She didn’t know where you were either. Sorry if I’m being too real, but I don’t know of any other friends you have that I trust you with, Michelle.”

“F-fine…” Michelle admitted. “I.... uh… I was at a b-boy’s house… last night.” Michelle poured on the fake guilt thick like maple syrup. The best part was, she technically wasn’t even lying about literally any of it. 

“Boys house? Who?” Her mom took the bait. See, her mom was also a fairly progressive parent. Obviously she couldn’t abide by her daughters doing any kind of drugs. But… exploring their sexuality… as long as it was safe. That, she was fine with.

“P-peter Parker. H-he’s a boy from the decathlon team.” 

Gia peaked from behind the kitchen counter, “Oh, ‘Chelle, you better not be abusing your power as team captain to get some tail.”

“Where did you learn that language?!” Michelle and Leslie chorused in unison. Gia ducked behind the counter again, metaphorically and physically hiding from the combined onslaught of faux disappointment.

Michelle smirked internally. This was good. The mood was considerably lighter. Gia was participating in banter. She just might get away with this scott free.

“I wanna talk to his parents. I assume you have his number?” Leslie asked.

“Yeah. ‘Course I do. But uh. He lives with his aunt. I… don’t know why. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” 

That gave her mom some pause. Good. Her mom was feeling guilty. Now Michelle was certainly in the clear, pretty much no matter what May said. 

Her mother called May’s number, waiting on each ring with bated breath. She only had to wait for three rings before and inordinately cheery voice came through the speakers.

“Well, Michelle! Calling so soon? I bet you want that wheat cake recipe after all.”

“Er, no… actually. I’m Leslie Jones, Michelle’s mother.” Leslie was actually floored. She couldn’t believe it. Michelle actually turned out to be telling the truth. At least, on the surface level.

“Oh, I see. Yeah, I thought we’d hit this little snag. Um,” May audibly sighed. “Look, I don’t want to like, tell you how to raise your kids. But like, I don’t see it as a big deal really and I honestly… don’t think you should either?” May continued, trepidation obvious on her voice. “Look, I talked to Peter and Michelle. They assured me that everything was consensual, they used protection, they were safe in general. I am a little peeved that they went behind our backs but like, I remember what it was like to be a teenager and I don’t really blame them to be honest. Us old people can be a major drag.”

Leslie honestly, genuinely smiled. “Oh. Oh, please don’t get me wrong. I’m fine with our kids… having a relationship. Like you said, as long as its safe and consensual, I don’t have a problem with it.”

Michelle could literally feel the sunbeams shining off May’s smile, even half a city away.

“I was just calling to corroborate what Michelle was telling me. You see, she’s been dealing with some… major issues lately. And I just wanted to make sure she was telling me the truth.” Her mother continued.

This actually made Michelle a teensy bit nervous. This line of questioning was actually a bit dangerous. It could lead to May revealing that she didn’t see Michelle until the morning, which would lead to Michelle having to admit that she and Peter met at a party. She always had Lexi’s squeaky clean pee to fall back on. She’d always be vindicated. But her mom might never trust her alone outside the house ever again if it had to go that far.

May was silent for a worryingly long time, as if she was contemplating whether or not she should say something. “Peter told me they met at our apartment last night. And if it comes from his mouth, you know it’s the gospel truth.”

Holy shit. May would forever be Michelle’s goddess. Atheism be damned, Arianna Grande was kinda right. God is a woman, and her name is May Parker. It was literally the perfect thing for her to say. There was no way on this earth that Michelle wasn’t getting away scott fucking free after that. It only occurred to her a half second later that Peter had to lie for her. And for some reason… that made her feel so… so fucking bad.

Her mother wiped an errant tear from her eye, before replying in a shaky voice. “T-thank you… I… uh… Thank you.” Leslie wanted to say so much more, so much more. But that was all she could say in that moment.

“No problem hon. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Leslie heard stuff like that all the time throughout her forty-two years on this earth. And every single time she reached out to someone, they always came up short, if they bothered to reply at all. Not this time though. May Parker meant every single word. And somehow Leslie knew that.

And that was that. Phone call over. Disaster averted. Michelle could almost hear ground control in her ear, ‘Houston to Michelle Jones, you’re clear for takeoff. Not a cloud in the sky, have a happy flight.’ She was still ate up about making Peter lie for her. But at least she didn’t have to worry...

Which is why she started traipsing back to her room, devising ways of how she could save Lexi’s pee for a later emergency, when her mother called out to her.

“We ain’t done yet, Michelle. You’re still taking a drug test.” 

Michelle froze. Not because she didn’t think she could pass. She had a supply of clean urine taped to her inner thigh, so there was nothing to worry about. No, she froze because she felt a cold, angry fury slowly crystalize inside her heart.

Michelle sighed. “Alright mom, of course.” 

That response gave Leslie some pause. Not because of what she directly said, but because of what she didn’t say. Leslie knew her daughters, in some ways, better than they could ever hope to know themselves. She knew when Michelle was absolutely livid. Michelle never screamed, or yelled, or threatened. She was calm, cool, and collected. Polite, even.

It was for that reason, Leslie was extremely trepidatious when she followed Michelle into the bathroom. Following her daughter in to the bathroom was one thing, but watching her pee felt… so wrong on so many levels. So she handed Michelle the little plastic test cup and turned around as she heard the sound of a steady stream of liquid flowing into the cup. 

“Alright mom. All done.” Michelle said in total, terrifying monotone.

As Leslie dropped the test strip into the little cup, she felt a complicated cocktail of emotions run shoot through her veins.

A few minutes later, the test strip showed negative, for everything it tested. That meant a lot. But it didn’t mean everything. Michelle could have still met Peter at a party or something last night. She could have still gotten totally drunk last night. But honestly, that didn’t worry Leslie as much. At least, not as much as if her daughter was out getting high.

“Happy mom? We’re in the clear, right?” Michelle asked as she got up from the toilet.

“Yeah, I guess we are…” Leslie replied.

Michelle took a slow, shaky breath to calm her nerves. “I don’t mind you questioning my integrity mom,” Another shaky breath. Michelle looked her mother in the eye with cold, indifferent, maybe even dead eyes. “I get it. I’m a drug addict. You don’t trust me. You probably won’t fully trust me ever again. And you’re well within your right.” A painfully slow blink. “But Peter is a good kid. A wonderful, honest, loving, _perfect_ person.” She almost heard it, an audible whisper in her ear. _Not after you made him lie for you…_ She resisted the urge to literally shake her head, instead she continued her little speech.

“Not like me. Never like me.” Her voice cracked. She took another agonizingly slow breath. “You can question me, interrogate me. Hate… me. Its okay. I deserve it.” She stared at her mother with a frigid, truly terrifying intensity that Leslie had never before seen in her daughter’s eyes. “But… Never. Doubt. Him.”

She sidestepped her horrified mother, walked confidently down the hall to her room and softly closed the door. She opened up her laptop, and starting playing one of her old audio books. She chose something at random. ‘Of Human Bondage’ worked well enough. She turned the audio on her laptop as high as it would go.

She sat, herself silent, while the absurdly loud narration of W. Somerset Maugham’s masterpiece washed over her room. She swallowed once, with great difficulty, before a heart wrenching sob tore out of her throat. She slapped her hands over her mouth, squeezing her jaw so tight that she was afraid she’d leave a bruise. 

The sobs didn’t stop. They wracked her body, and she tried so hard, so very hard to make sure she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t succeed. Dry heaves and wet sounding coughs soon overtook her her sobbing. Drool and mucus leaked through her fingers, and tears flowed down her cheeks like the two melancholy streams. She stayed like that for a long…. Long time. 

* * *

Peter sighed, kissing his aunt on the cheek as he hopped out of her beat up old red Toyota. “I have a license you know. You don’t have to drop me off.” Peter said, just a tad bit embarrassed of having to be dropped off at high school by his aunt. He was seventeen years old, for pity’s sake.

“Peter. You’re an idiot. If you took my car to school, then how would I get to work?” Aunt May replied with a questioning smirk.

“Touché, Zia.” And with that, Peter waved goodbye to his aunt and casually jogged down the sidewalk to school. 

He feigned cheeriness, like that would somehow save him. But he knew about a dozen or so people whipped out their phones to video his little… mishap with Nate Jacobs last weekend. Midtown and East Highland were about as different as two high schools could be. Their student body were made up of completely different types of students with very, very different interests. That didn’t mean there wasn’t some overlap. Some East Highlanders and Midtowners knew each other, were friends even. Word would spread between schools. For good or ill, he didn’t quite know yet.

He spied Michelle leaning against a support pillar of one of the schools many outdoor overhanging ceilings.. She looked… sad and… scared.. It wasn’t her normal boredom, or poorly veiled contempt she had for the school system. It was genuine… heart wrenching sadness, and terribly vulnerable fear.

To most people, she probably looked normal. Just a little down, but not too off. But Peter could tell. Peter figured out a long time ago that Michelle had… some kind of issues going on outside of school. She was just such a reclusive person that it was impossible for him to tell what it was, but he knew it was there. In fact, now he knew exactly what it was. She had drug issues. He found that out the hard way earlier this summer. 

What shocked him though, was the fact that she hid it so, so very convincingly for such a long time. She had literally as close to perfect grades in nearly every class she took. She won the decathlon team national tournament, and lead it to another, which of course they also won thanks to her. She gave off this air of perfect stoicism, strength, challenging the world to face her if it dared. And now that air was gone. That mask cruelly ripped away. And now the world saw her for what she was. And she was afraid. 

Peter knew the world had a trillion and one things wrong with it. The climate was rapidly and possibly irreversibly changing due to human greed and shortsightedness. People were being corralled into ‘detention centers’ for the terrible crime of being born in a different country and wanting the chance of a better life. Authoritarian regimes were consolidating their power, crushing the people they claimed to serve under ever tightening steel grips. He could go on all day, but he didn’t need to. All of those were terrible yes, but the very worst was seeing Michelle try so very hard to put on a brave face.

Michelle wiped a single solitary tear away from her cheeks with a shaky palm. Honestly, she felt like breaking down and sobbing on the floor, letting the water works flow freely. But uh, she kind of already did that all weekend long. Her tear ducts could only take so much, so it was kind of a minor-major miracle that her left eye had managed to produce that lone tear.

Peter slowly walked up, and took her slightly tear stained hand in his bandaged one. By this point the bandage wasn’t strictly speaking necessary, his accelerated healing factor already taking care of the wound. But, most people would assume it would take a couple weeks to heal, so Peter kept wearing the bandage. She still didn’t seem to notice Peter, even as he was literally holding her hand. So he ran his thumb over her knuckles, uttering a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey.” It wasn’t much of a response, but it was enough. She looked up at him with a little bit of a watery smile.

The morning bell rung. Hand in hand, they slowly walked into the school, unsure of just what awaited them. Confident that whatever it was, they would face it together.

* * *

The day started out actually kind of easy for them, mostly because they shared a lot of classes before lunch, and as long as they were together, nobody seemed to be brave enough to say anything to their face. Of course people talked. They would always talk, it was a high school for fucks sake. Gossip was bound to happen. But as long as it wasn’t within their ear shot, they could pretend it didn’t exist.

It was weird actually. Their newfound reputations kind of protected and built off each other in a way. Yeah, Peter was seen as a terrifying manifestation of rage incarnate now, hidden behind a thin veil of uncanny cheer. But people also saw how Michelle was able to apparently able to temper his incredible anger.

Yes, people knew about Michelle’s struggle with drug addiction, but people also knew that if Peter found out they said anything untoward about her… Well, there was an incredible likelihood that they’d be reduced to a dull red smear on the school’s old carpet. At least, so they assumed. He thought at first it might be a decent, if uncomfortable system, but Peter started to notice the cracks first. Right as he took his customary seat across from Ned. 

Michelle was still in the lunch line. She got there a little late because she had to talk to at teacher about something after class. Thankfully, it was academia related, and didn’t have anything to do with her OD. But as a consequence, Michelle was quite a few people behind Peter in the lunch line. So he had a few minutes to himself with Ned.

It was actually something he was looking forward to, at least until he overheard the audio coming from Ned’s phone.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. “You wanna hurt me?” Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. “You wanna fucking hurt me?” Thudthudthudthudthud…. THUD! “I’m fucking invicible!”_

Mercifully Ned paused the video. Either that, or it intentionally cut out before it got bloody. Ned calmly set his phone down. Too calmly. Only then did Peter realize Ned didn’t have a lunch tray. 

“So… were you lying to me _every_ time you blew me off this summer to go patrolling? Or was that a one time thing?” Ned asked, going right for the jugular.

Peter opened his mouth to defend himself, but Ned cut him off.

“Actually, hold on. I think a more telling question would be… can you name a single time we hung out this summer?”

Again, Peter started to defend himself, but again Ned cut him off.

“Oh, don’t actually bother answering that. I know you can't. To be fair, I can’t either. Because you know... We didn’t. Not once. I know what happened Peter. I know what you’re going through. I thought maybe I just had to give you some space, and maybe I’d get my friend back. But you didn’t. Because you were off getting fucked up at parties, drowning in your sorrow. Oh, I don’t hold that against you by the way. I totally get it. You gotta let loose, let out some steam. Trust me Peter. I get it. That never bothered me. The lying, though. That stung.”

Ned pocketed his phone and got up to leave. He paused for one more cutting remark. “Oh uh. By the way? I knew you were lying pretty much from the beginning. The news kept reporting zero Spider-man sightings this summer, remember? I just thought… maybe you’d come clean or something. Cuz eventually you had to tell the truth some time, cuz like we were friends right? But uh. Nope. I had to personally find out from this,” Ned said, flashing his phone screen at Peter as he walked away.

Peter stared vacantly at his rapidly congealing mashed potatoes and gravy, not bothering to look up as Michelle took the seat across from him. A seat that should have been Ned’s.

She waited a few seconds before speaking. “I uh… I saw Ned leave in a huff. It’ll be okay Peter. Everything will turn out alright.” Michelle said as she took his bandaged hand in hers. 

Peter looked up after a few seconds, looked at her earnest expression and believed her. Because yeah, Ned made it look like their friendship was over but… They both knew their friendship would survive this. It would just take a little time for them to deal with their feelings, but like. It would happen. And until then, Peter had Michelle. And if worse came to worst, she’d always be enough.

* * *

Eventually though, it just _had_ to happen. Lunch had to end, and suddenly Peter and Michelle were in separate classes. It wasn’t so bad for Peter though. Everyone walked on eggshells around him, like they were afraid that he could have a psychotic break at any moment from the slightest provocation. That was fine. He honestly didn’t care. He didn’t wanna deal with people today anyway. Michelle got it worse. Infinitely worse. And the worst thing was, it didn’t even start with the students. 

It was the second to last class of the day, Michelle’s drama class. On a normal day, it would be one of her ‘easy A’ classes. All she had to do was show up, know the material, answer some questions and occasionally act out a stupid scene or two. Michelle hated being the center of attention, but like. Under normal circumstances the sweet, sweet 4.0 was worth it. But under these extenuating circumstances… being the center of attention was the last thing she wanted. 

She heard some rumors that there was a faculty wide meeting to address what… happened to her last summer. Apparently the staff got additional sensitivity training on how to deal with an extremely at-risk teenager. So maybe she had nothing to worry about?

“Alright, now class. We’re going to do a little warm up exercise. Everyone’s going to go up on stage, one at a time, and tell a short simple story of what they did this summer.”

What. Okay. That. That was so fucking short sighted. But like. Okay, there was still a chance Mrs. Nuñez attended the meeting after all and would strategically skip her. Just in case, Michelle surreptitiously started crouching down in front of the student sitting in front of her.

You know that thing that teacher’s do when they purposefully call on the kid trying to hide from their gaze? That has never been cool. And no matter the context, it will never be okay. No kid should have to be paraded in front of their peers and mocked for their teacher’s personal gratification. And in this case, it was especially egregious.

“Alright, Michelle. Thank you for… volunteering. Come up on stage, now. Don’t be shy. That’s what this class is about conquering.”

What. The. Absolute. Fuck. 

Michelle stood, despite not remembering commanding her muscles to allow her to stand. She slowly, robotically walked up on stage, her shoulders tense, back slightly hunched. It was so obvious to anyone looking that she was trying her best to not be fucking seen. Literally impossible when a bright as fuck stage light was shining right in your face.

Michelle stared out into the crowd of her classmates. All their eyes were on her, and instantly, and against her will, her own fucked up mind started imagining what they were thinking about her. 

‘Didn’t she like, die last summer?’

‘How the fuck did she do so well in school and be a junkie at the same time? I bet she fuckin’ cheated.’

“No…” Michelle whispered under her breath.

‘I bet she sucked a dirty dick for a xany.’

‘Well, I always wondered how she stayed so thin. Now I know.’

“Stop it…” She whispered, ever so more audibly.

‘I heard her dad killed himself.’

‘Doesn’t she have a sister? I bet she’ll end up just like her. That poor kid.’

“Please… stop…” She begged, just loud enough for her teacher to hear.

“What was that, dear? Please speak up. Its okay, don’t be shy. Just tell us a simple story about your summer. It just has to be a couple sentences.”

‘Weak willed woman.’

‘Pathetic.’

‘Whore.’’

‘Slut.’

‘ _Murderer_.’

“Fucking lies!” She growls out loud.

“What was that, dear?” 

Everything she valued about herself, broken down, dissected, examined and judged to be WORTHLESS. 

Every half-baked, dumb-ass rumor ever spread about her, no matter how cruel, instantly judged to be TRUE. 

Every tiny infraction, every little rule broken, every teeny, tiny mistake she made in her life. Blown up, magnified, examined under every possible microscope and judged the worst possible SIN.

Michelle clutched her head, pressed her palms against her ears, trying to block out the endless roar of her echoed failures, the thundering boom of her misery. Of course it didn’t work.

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Michelle’s screech echoed through the theater. 

She opened her eyes, and even through the tears, she could see everyone’s faces looking up at her. Staring at her. If they assumed she was crazy, they were sure as shit of it now. Michelle gasped, before hyperventilating. She couldn't be here any more. She _had_ to leave. She took a running leap from the stage, jumping as far as she could with her long legs, and stuck the landing, before bounding out of the theater. In literally any other circumstances it would have really impressive. Hell, even in this circumstance it was fairly impressive.

The entire class, the teacher included, stared in shock. All except one. In the back, hardly noticed by anyone, sat Lexi, terrified for her friend. She was up in an instant, sprinting after Michelle.

* * *

Her duster jacket flapped in the wind as she sprinted as fast as she could, the grey lockers whizzing by as she sprinted for somewhere, anywhere that could give her sanctuary. Out of the corner of her eye, Michelle saw it. The door to the girl’s bathroom. Salvation, at last.

Michelle shouldered through the door, checking that all the stalls were empty. Side note: American public bathrooms are terrible. The stall doors sometimes barely even go down low enough to obscure the view of the porcelain throne within. They fuckin’ suck. 

But, that did make it easy for Michelle to check the bathroom was empty. And… somehow it was. Another side note: Do you know how rare it is to find an empty public women’s restroom in the middle of the day? Stars goddamned aligned for Michelle, that’s how rare. She hid in the stall farthest from the door, pulled a baggie containing a little less than a dozen teeny tiny blue pills. 

She carefully extracted a single tiny pill out of the bag and laid it on the toilet roll dispenser. (Side Note within parenthesis: This is super gross and unhygienic on literally every level. Of course Michelle couldn’t care less, but still, it was a miracle the poor girl hadn’t contracted dyptheria or something by now.)

Fishing out a dollar from her pocket, she laid it over the pill (She’s just… making a germ sandwich now, isn’t she?) and crushed the pill with the side of her phone. With the practiced hand of a druggie… which she had, because she sorta was… she seperated the pulverized dust into nice, neat little lines with one of her mom’s old credit cards. (Note to Michelle, see if mom hasn’t cancelled said card yet.)

She was just about to snuff each and every single one of those nice little lines when she paused. She knew that Peter really, really wanted her to stay clean. Those little blue line’s didn’t just represent freedom from her own mind. They also represented a direct betrayal of Peter. But… in this moment… her mental breakdown tore through all her reservations. She was just about to snuff the first of many, many lines… When she heard a soft rapping against the stall door. 

Michelle’s eyes went wide, and on pure instinct and muscle memory, she blew the little blue lines away, now reduced to literally dust in the wind. And with one shamefully practiced motion, she tossed the baggie of the rest of the pills into the toilet bowl, and flushed it with her foot. 

“Hey Michelle? You okay? It's me.” 

The familiar voice gave her pause. It was Lexi. Just… fucking Lexi. Not a teacher or another student. Just. Lexi. Her entire stash down the drain… because of fucking Lexi.

Michelle slammed the stall door open, growling, “You’re so fucking stupid, Lexi.” As she shouldered past the smaller girl.

“Okay, why?” 

“Because! I already flushed everything down the fucking toilet!” Michelle yelled as she kicked another stall door in frustration.

“Okay… well. I was just coming to check on you...” Lexi replied.

Michell now punched another poor innocent stall door in her frustration. It actually really hurt, but she didn’t fucking care right now.

“I don’t want you to fucking check on me! FUCK! Who the fuck care’s anymore. I certainly fucking don’t. Everyone fucking knows who I am… what I am. So what does it matter, to ANYONE what I do with my FAILURE of a LIFE!” Michelle roared as she took a threatening step towards Lexi. 

And Lexi, to her credit, did not take a step back. “I do care. About you. Because you’re one of my best friends.”

Michelle straightened up, adjusted her jacket, and took a healthy step back. “Oh. I’m sorry. I must have… forgotten. Apparently knowing each other in preschool makes us best friends.” That wasn’t the extent of their friendship. Michelle knew it, but she boiled down their relationship to make a bad point. “Please, then. Continue. Dictate my life to me, give me advice, tell me. Tell me. Go on.”

Lexi suddenly got nervous. She knew how to deal with Michelle when she was shouting and argumentative. But calm… stoic Michelle… that was new. And scary. She said the only thing that she could think of. “What happens in three days when you come knocking on my door? Oh, I know. You’re going to tell me that we’re best friends, that we’ve known each other since preschool, that you just need me to do this one little thing… and hand me another empty bottle to piss in.”

Michelle took a step forward, and this time, Lexi did step back. Another step forward, and another step back. Again and again, until Lexi backed up into the wall of a stall. Honestly, Lexi was afraid. Not afraid of what Michelle would do to her, but what Michelle would do to herself after all of this.

Pivoting on her heel, Michelle stomped out of the bathroom. She fast-walked down the hallway, each step faster than the last until she was running again. Running to another bathroom clear on the other side of the school. She slammed through the door and rushed into a stall. She knelt in front of the toilet just in time. She dry heaved once, twice, then her lunch barreled up her throat and into the water basin. She kept heaving up puke until bile burned at her mouth. 

The sobs replaced the heaving once her stomach had nothing left to purge. She leaned against the side of the stall as once again the emotions poured out. Why the fuck did she have to be like this? Why did she have to hurt everyone around her? Not for the first time, she wished she wasn’t saved from that overdose. Fucking Spider-man had to save the day. Well, what if she didn’t wanna be saved, huh? What if she just wanted to slip away into that long goodnight and never have to worry about anything ever again.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She retrieved it by sheer muscle memory. Through the tears, she saw the words ‘ **ALARM: RALLY THE TROOPS!’** blazened on the top of the screen. Oh right. She made that alarm months ago, back when she still thought she was going to be leading the decathlon team this year. That also meant that she had been sobbing in that stall for almost two hours, but like, who the fuck cared about that?

She stumbled out of the stall, her body lurching its way to a sink. The cold water washed away the tear tracks and kind of washed out the bitter taste of bile from her mouth. Strategically applied concealer did a somewhat decent job of hiding the fact that she’d been crying. Again. And just like that, she was once again wearing her brave face. Because she still had some scraps of pride left. She would not look weak in front of her team. Well, former team. She would hold her head high, even if it was only to submit her resignation from the team.

Michelle thanked her lucky stars her past self was overly pro active and set the alarm for half an hour ahead of time. That was the only reason she was right on time for the meeting. The other students had just filed in. 

Ned gave her an awkward smile. He and Peter’s friendship might be a little rocky right now, and he knew that Michelle and Peter where kind of an item… But he still considered Michelle a good… friend? Pseudo friend? Friend adjacent? It didn’t matter, what mattered was that Ned didn’t blame her for anything.

Lexi on the other hand, avoided her gaze. And all at once Michelle wanted to throw up again. Lexi was afraid of her now, after their little confrontation in the bathroom. They… they probably weren’t friends anymore. And… and that hurt so much.

Peter had just walked through the doors and sat next to Michelle, worry etched into his face. She gave him a small smile, a simple expression that told Peter everything he needed to know. She was so tired, so fed up with the world, but for now she was glad he was here. 

Mr. Harrington rushed through the doors a few seconds after the team had assembled. “Alright team, I gotta make this quick. I had a whole speech written out, but unfortunately I have to paraphrase. We all know what happened this summer.”

Oh, here we fucking go. Michelle took a deep breath, and braced for the worst.

Harrington looked uncharacteristically serious. “Life is hard, kids. Most of you don’t know that. Your roads of life so far have been smoothly paved, clear of obstacles. For some of us, that isn’t the case. Their roads are packed dirt, pitted with potholes, scattered with boulders. But no matter what your road of life looks like, everyone eventually stumbles, some even fall. We all face a choice now, kids. We can go alone along our roads of life, blind to those struggling to get back up… Or we can pause, and help those who have fallen and help each other along the way together.”

Mr. Harrington paused for effect, taking a slow breath. “I’ve made my choice. Michelle Jones won us a national. Not only that, she lead us to another. And through her guidance we won that one too. Which is why I am confident in my choice to keep her as Midtown School of Science and Technology’s decathlon team captain.”

Roger Harrington was a meek looking man. He was slightly below average height. His haircut was kind of dorky. He wore thick glasses that made his eyes bug-eyed in his head. He may have looked meek, but that didn’t mean anything to Michelle in that moment. For one shining moment, she saw her dad reborn. Not as he was in his final months, but the man who taught her to see all that was good in this rotten world.

Mr. Harrington sighed as he checked his watch again. “I had a lot more to say, but an emergency faculty meeting has been called due to an incident earlier today. So, I have to go. But I leave you all in good hands.” He snapped his fingers, pointing to Michelle. “Captain, take the lead.”

Michelle took a shaky breath to calm her nerves as Mr. Harrington left the room. “Alright. So. We have a lot to do people. We have a lot of freshmen spots that need to be filled. Does anyone have any suggestions-”

“I’m sorry, but no.” Flash cut her off.

“What?” Michelle asked in disbelief.

“Oh, you might have fooled our dumbass teachers into thinking you’ve always been Midtown’s star student. But come on, guys. Its obvious she cheated her way into that captain’s spot.” Flash accused.

And Michelle froze. It was one thing to imagine the accusations and assumptions of her peers. But for someone to actually say them aloud… that was something else entirely. She did the only thing she could. She bolted for the door. Again.

Peter stiffened, still in shock that Flash could be so… mean. Like, yeah, Flash bullied him but like. This wasn’t the stupid name calling motivated by petty jealousy. This was malicious. And it made Peter see red.

Of course, Flash saw the video of what happened last weekend. He refused to believe that was Penis. It literally was impossible. The guy was dorky, kinda meek, awkward. Not at all the dude in that video. But, as Peter stared him dead in the eye, molten volcanic fury bubbling beneath the surface, begging to break through and incinerate all before him… Flash knew. That was Peter in the video. He was dead. So very, very dead.

Thankfully for the continued pathetic existence of Eugene Thompson, Peter cared about Michelle more than he hated that stinking worm. Faster than people’s eyes could follow, Peter ran for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of you are probably looking at how Peter and Michelle's relationship and going... 'isn't this a little... much?' And yeah. It is. The thing is, the relationship they're building for themselves right now is NOT healthy. Right now, they are idealizing each other in ways that isn't healthy, putting each other on higher and higher pedestals. Eventually they will crumble under their own weight, and in that rubble they will see each other for what they are. And hopefully they can accept that reality. Or maybe they won't. 
> 
> Anyway, read, comment, share, etc. etc. Catch you on the flip, party people!


	3. Episode 3: Blue skies, smiling at me. Nothing but blue skies, do I see.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never saw the sun, shining so bright, never saw things, going so right. Michelle survives a particularly scary encounter. May and Leslie find something else in common. And Peter and Michelle see if the second day of school is as bad as the first.

_ So. Peter thinks he can do this narrator shit too? Fine, he can share my limelight, if only because I love him. Uh… fuck. Okay, guys, don’t tell him. Please. Let me figure out how to tell him on my own. Uh. Yeah. I love him. I really do. And I know what you’re all thinking. “Oh Michelle, honey. You just started talking to him a few days ago. How could you possibly love him?” _

_ That was in a silly impression of your voice. I know, you guys can’t tell. I just wanted to make sure you knew. Anyway. Yeah, I get it, we really only started hanging out literally like less than a week ago. But! You guys are forgetting something important. I sat next to Peter and Nedward at lunch every single day for nearly three years now. I went to weekly decathlon practices with him for nearly three years. _

_ Now, I know that doesn’t seem like a lot of interaction. I know you guys think I couldn’t possibly get to know the guy through lunchtime banter and joking around after decathlon meets. But I’m observant. And Peter has been the object of my observation for a very long time. Fuck, that sounds creepy. Okay, give me a break! At least I didn’t stare at him from across the cafeteria ogling at what kind of clothes he wore. If it isn’t clear, I’m still a little bit bitter about him being head over heels for Liz Allen for so long. But I got my karmic revenge eventually. Oh… yeah… that was… dickish thing to say. Liz Allen, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for that. You were a wonderful captain and I’m sorry your dad got locked up for selling alien guns. _

_ Anyway, I’m getting off track. So yeah. Peter. You guys were doubting my love for him. Well, let me explain a little better. I first met Peter after my dad died. I was sitting alone at lunch, like every other day, except for little detail. I was crying into the book I was reading, I’m not ashamed to admit. Then all of the sudden, this scrawny little twerp with coke bottle glasses and a mop of brown curls walks up to me, hugs me tight, and asks me if I wanted to sit with him and Ned. I was so shocked that just had to I nod and followed him to this chubby Filipino kid. _

_ I was floored, for a lot of reasons. For one, he and Ned didn’t try and force a conversation out of me. They gave me my space, let me read by myself, and continued with their stupid nerdy discussion. No “I’m so sorry for your loss,” No, “He was a good man, the world is darker without him,” No, “I’m here if you need me,” none of that. See, what a lot of people don’t get is, condolences suck. I mean, its nice that people are thinking about you, I guess. But like. It just gets exhausting after a while. Like, just when you’re starting to feel some semblance of better, someone has to go reminding about your loss all over again by saying how sorry they were that you had to endure it. I mean, they mean well. But sometimes just let people deal with shit on their own, yeah? _

_ Anyway, yeah. I don’t know how Peter and Ned understood that. But somehow, they did. They reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this world, that there were people willing to help me… without also reminding me of what I lost. That was the event that lead me to observing Peter Parker. _

_ And the more I saw, the more I… I loved. See, if there was any kid who had a right to hate the world, it was him. He had a laundry list of medical issues. Every day was a struggle. I witnessed three allergic reactions, two asthma attacks, hell I even saw him rushed from the school in a gurney. And every single day, he came to school with a smile on his face, bright, bubbly, hopeful. _

_ No matter what shitty, awful thing happened to him, he always found some kind of good in it, always saw the bright side of things. An optimist through and through. Every time I got hung up on some article reporting on some atrocity committed half a world away, he always found five reporting on something good in the world. And I love him for it. When my dad died, I lost my hope for this world. When I met Peter, I found it again.  _

_ Do you know, I have this theory? I think Peter’s secretly Spider-man. I know, it sounds crazy, but hear me out. Remember Washington? Spider-man showed up, a local hero from Queens. Somehow, he traveled over several state lines, and shows up to save a decathlon team. A team also from Queens. Oh, and did I mention Peter was gone for like, most of that trip? Yeah, coincidence? I think not. _

_ Still, I’m only like fifty percent sure. I’m hoping if I flip that coin, it doesn’t come up ‘Peter Parker is Spider-man’. Because that means Peter would have had to endure some really, really fucked up shit. It doesn’t normally make national headlines because of how dark it is, but I see on local news that he’s dealt with really… really hardcore shit. Spider man has been responsible for braking up sex-trafficking rings, busting drug lords, he even helped thwart a potentially world ending alien invasion six months ago. _

_ Remember that party? Where Nate lost his shit and Peter had to pull that crazy knife thing? I remember looking into Peter’s eyes and seeing… nothing. Just dead… cold… sad chocolate brown eyes. Like mine. Please… Please if there’s anything good in this world… Please, don’t let his hope be crushed like mine. Please, let him still be that bright, happy boy that I love. Please... _

* * *

Peter ran after Michelle, and should have caught her easily. But he throttled his own pace, the unconscious instinct to never use his full abilities when he wasn’t wearing his suit taking over his desire to reach her.

Michelle got to the bike racks long before Peter did. She was already a couple hundred feet down the street by the time Peter left the building. He didn’t even bother to call after her, his voice surely wouldn’t carry. So, instead he dejectedly called May to pick him up.

“What happened, Peter? You get out of practice early?” May asked as she pulled up to the school’s drop off/pick up zone. 

Peter shrugged as he sat down. “Oh. Uh. Practice was cancelled. Something about a faculty meeting or something.” He tried to hide his melancholy, but May picked up on it easily. Thankfully she didn’t say anything… not just yet.

“Well, you’re gonna have the apartment to yourself tonight. Got called in for another graveyard shift. Fucking Cal Jacobs called in again. So of course, I have to cover his shift in the emergency room. I’m fine if you bring Michelle over tonight, Peter.” May mentioned Michelle to fish for some info. She had a sinking suspicion that she was the reason for Peter’s down mood.

Peter shrugged again. “Oh, I think I’ll be content with having the apartment to myself.”

“Oh, Peter, you didn’t break up did you?” That really would be too bad. May only met Michelle once. But she really liked her.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Uh, she had a rough first day of school. I think she just wants some time alone to process it.” Peter hoped that’s why she took off so quickly. But in his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn’t it.

May exhaled a sigh of relief. Good. They were still together. Peter and Michelle were too cute a couple.

They got to their apartment complex in short order, Peter checking the mail as May continued on to their apartment to get ready for her twelve hour night shift. 

Peter opened their mailbox, immediately zeroing on the small package emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo that sat so innocuously on what had to be a stack of bills and coupons. Peter emptied the mailbox, setting the bills and coupons on the kitchen counter and taking the package into his room. He sat at his bed for a long… long time, staring at the blocky font of the logo…

* * *

Fezco counted the last stacks of cash, cleaned up his ratty apartment, and made sure the couch gun was loaded, (It wasn’t a gun that shot couches, it was a pistol hidden between the cushions, duh.) and made Ashtray swear he wouldn’t say something stupid… again. He was pretty stressed that Monday afternoon, because they were due to have some… guests coming by. Dangerous guests. But, in order to keep selling drugs, and therefore pay for his grandma’s medical expenses, he had to deal with it.

He nearly jumped outta his skin when he heard someone frantically knocking on the security gate. Fuck. They were early. 

“Yo, it them?” He asked into a nearby radio. 

“Naw, it’s Michelle,” came the reply.

Fuck. Not her. Not now. “Yo, don’t let her…”

Michelle walked through the door and plopped down onto his couch.

“In. Fuck, MJ you can’t be here…” He trailed off when he got a good look at her. Her eyes were red and puffy. She looked like shit.

“Fez. I uh, I’m sorry, but I don’t fucking care. I’m outta drugs, and I’ve had… a real fucked up day. Got kicked off the decathlon team. If money’s the issue, I got it right here,” she said as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of bills of seemingly random denominations, all tied up with a rubber band. 

Every time Michelle bummed some cash off her mom, friends, or whoever, she always reserved a few bills. Kept it in her panty drawer, so her mom wouldn’t find it. Called it her ‘emergency drug fund’. After years of saving up bits and bobs, and she had accumulated over two hundred bucks.

Fez sighed, “Keep yo bills kid. I’m sorry your friends kicked you out, but like. You really can’t be here right now.”

And he was. Really sorry that she was let go from the team. Fez went to every one of their meets, as long as it was in NYC. He cheered them on, even though ninety nine percent of the time he had no idea what the questions even meant. He loved that Michelle had something to keep her going. He saw how she led that band of nerd brothers and sisters to victory after victory. He actually was really proud of her. But… that didn’t matter right now, because someone else knocked at his door. A slow, purposeful rhythm that he recognized.

He steeled himself, turned to MJ with a dead serious look in his eye. “Stay here, let me do the talkin’. I’m serious. These guys are dangerous.” He checked the couch gun one last time, and went to open the door.

Michelle’s eyes widened. Hooooly shit. She was cool with drugs… But the instant guns got involved, she normally tried to book it the other direction as fast as possible. Nervously swallowing, she fidgeted in her seat as Fez opened the door. He opened to door to someone he wasn’t expecting. 

“Hello… Fezco.”

Standing on Fez’s welcome mat was the last person he ever expected to see again. Mac Gargan. AKA: Scorpion. He looked different since the last time Fez saw him. His left eye was a deep crimson, the angry red scar above it marring his otherwise smooth head. He wore a massive oversized black duster over a perfectly tailored emerald green three piece suit. That wasn’t weird though. Mac always dressed opulently, even if it was just a visit to one of his hundreds of street level dealers. What did catch Fezco’s eye was the strange segmented belt around his waist, green glowing elements shining between the dull emerald metal segments. Fez’s regular supplier, Mouse, stood nervously behind him, dressed in a drab hoodie and jeans, as usual.

“Fuck, Fez. Show some fuckin’ manners and show the boss in, will ya?” Mouse grunted.

Gargan rolled his one good eye. “Now, now, Mouse. A little impropriety is warranted, when someone has an unexpected guest. Though, I must admit I would like to be admitted into your humble abode sooner rather than later.” 

Fez backed up, ushering his terrifying guest in. “Of course, man. Of course.” This was ten million times worse than he ever expected. Having Michelle around when Mouse did his supply run was bad enough. Fez only ever met Mac a few times, but every single time he thought he wasn’t getting out of the situation alive. 

“Sir, don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought…” Fez began as the Scorpion swaggered into the small apartment.

“That after the Staten Island ferry incident the feds had locked me up and thrown away the key? A reasonable assumption. But I have powerful friends in the DA office. My stint in summer camp was always going to be short. Managed to get Toomes out too. And for my trouble, he made me this little number.” Mac said as he hung his duster jacket on the nearby coat rack.

The belt uncoiled, revealing it to be a mechanical tail, the base of which was surgically implanted into the small of Mac’s back. It was tied directly into his central nervous system, allowing him to control it as easily as he controlled his own arms. The other end sported a nasty looking eight inch barb, razor sharp and shaped exactly like a scorpion’s stinger.

Mouse immediately walked over to the dining room, emptying out the contents of his backpack. Dozens, if not almost a hundred pill bottles of various sizes spilled onto the cheap wooden surface, as he whispered with Ashtray to negotiate prices.

Mac, on the other hand, took an immediate interest in the only other occupant in the room. He took a seat on the couch across from Michelle.“My my, Fez. Why didn’t you tell me you knew such a lovely young creature?”

Michelle stiffened, her already stock still body somehow tensing up even more. Gargan’s prosthetic tail reached out to her, the sharp stinger tickling her chin.

“Uh, yeah, she’s like my little sister,” Fez said nervously. Just his fucking luck Mac had to sit right next to his emergency couch gun. 

“Good evening, little sis. My name is Mac… Mac Gargan.”

Michelle’s ran her tongue nervously over her teeth. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gargan.”

He laughed, a hollow, tinny sound. “Oh, Mr. Gargan is my father. My fucked up, wife beating, child rapist of a father. Please don’t remind me of him. My friends and associates call me Scorpion.”

Taking a shaky breath, Michelle replied, “Mr. Scorpion then?”

A cheshire grin split Gargan’s face. “Oh, how polite! I  _ like _ you. My… more coarsely ground associates could learn a thing or two from you.”

Scorpion’s grin melted off his face. As entertaining as his young new friend was, it was unfortunately time to get into the nitty gritty. “Mouse tells me you’ve been refusing our fentanyl lately, Fezco. Tell me, for what reason have you been neglecting to sell our most profitable product?”

“Uh. Too many ODs. I didn’t think it was safe to attract that kinda heat.” Was his incredibly reasonable answer.

“That’s easy enough to avoid. Remember your LD50’s boy. Didn’t they teach you anything in school?” Gargan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wait, I just remember you dropped out. Never mind. I believe a live demonstration is in order. How much do you weigh, little sis?”

Michelle blinked, pressing her palm to her chest and gasping in mock offense. “Why, Mr. Scorpion! It’s terribly rude to be so forward with a lady’s weight! But, if you must know, one hundred thirty pounds, give or take.”

Mac blinked in surprise. He really,  _ really _ liked her. He honestly thought it was too bad she had to be the guinea pig for his little demonstration. “Oh, forgive me for my uncouth line of questioning, and thank you for humoring me, young miss.”

Fishing around in the pocket of his slacks, Mac eventually retrieved a small foil packet. The barb of his tail just barely punctured the foil before he quickly extracted it. A tiny, miniscule little droplet of viscous liquid shined on the end of the barb. 

“Observe, my ill-educated young friend. Based on your little sisters weight, this amount should be well within safety margins.” Mac explained as his barb snaked through the air, stopping just in front of Fez’s nose. He could barely even tell there was something on the barb at all.

Mac snaked the tail back over to Michelle, the barb stopping a hair’s breadth away from her lips. “Now, forgive me, but I must ask that you ingest this little dosage. Just to prove without a shadow of a doubt it’s a safe amount. Don’t worry. My math has never been wrong… well, is hardly ever wrong.”

Michelle hesitated. Scorpion narrowed his eyes. “Oh, come now. Don’t be difficult…” The barb traveled down, the tip now hovering a millimeter away from her rapidly pulsing carotid. “Young Fezco has such a glaring gap in his education. He must learn his lesson. You’re going to take this whether you want to or not. We can make this nice and easy, or very messy. Your choice.”

Closing her eyes and taking a shaky breath, Michelle opened her mouth. She felt the flat of the bladed tip run along her tongue, thoroughly wiping the barely visible viscous droplet off the blade. 

“Good! Very good! That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Gargan said as he leaned back on the couch. He casually picked his teeth with his now cleaned scorpion barb. “We’re giving three times more fentanyl than we normally do. See to it that it is sold, and that not one of your customers OD. Do this, and we’re square. Don’t, and I’ll have my boys slit your throat and stuff your head in a dryer. Do you understand?”

Fez nodded slowly. Gargan dipped his hand between the couch cushions, fishing out the pistol. 

“You know,” Scorpion said, waving the pistol around, “I understand your need for… contingencies. Trust me. But a little tip. This little pop gun is less than useless.” Mac touched a green button on his belt buckle. A transparent, but distinctly visible emerald green energy field enveloped his body, being projected just a few scant centimeters off the surface of his clothes.

“Wakandan particle field technology. Very bullet proof. So, next time I show up, don’t insult my intelligence or resources with such a futile contingency weapon, Fez.” Scorpion pulled a chitauri energy pistol from a holster hidden under his arm. He held it out for Fez to take. “Have this. Think of it as… a gift for tolerating my presence today. I apologize for arriving without ample notice. It shall not happen again.”

Fez shrugged. “Its… no problem. Thanks for the…”

“Chitauri energy pistol,” Scorpion finished for him. Mac turned back to Michelle, who by now was just starting to feel the effects of the fentanyl. “And I’m so sorry for using you for demonstration purposes, little miss.” He patted her head affectionately. “But, I think the high you’ll start to feel in oh, two minutes or so will more than make up for it.”

Mouse finished squaring the deal with Ashtray by then. He turned to his boss, “I think we’re all done here. Don’t you agree, sir?”

Gargan nodded. “Yes, yes indeed. Goodbye Fez, Ash. I wish you good business in the coming weeks. For your sakes,” he said as he shrugged on his overcoat. And with that, Mouse and Gargan left. Fez only dared to breathe as he softly closed the door.

Michelle slowly started leaning to the side, falling onto the couch all at once. Hooooo…. Shiiiiiit… She’d been high on nearly every opiate sans straight up heroin. And this was way… way better than all of them combined multiplied by a million. Thinking? How did she do that again? Fuuuuuuck… Her jaw went totally slack, her eyes staring at the ceiling, unblinking. She was breathing easily with regular breaths at least, thank goodness.

Fez stared at her in horror. He needed to make sure she got to somewhere safe. She couldn’t stay here… He checked her phone, looking through her contacts. His eyes hung on one name. Peter Parker. Michelle talked about him a lot. He seemed like a good kid. And she seemed fairly close to him. So Fez hit the green call icon.

* * *

Peter was shaken out of his daze by his phone vibrating in his pocket. When he saw the caller ID, he almost dropped his phone, he was so excited to answer.

“Michelle! I’m so sorry about what happened today. You’re okay? Please tell me you’re okay…”

He didn’t recognize the voice that replied. “Uh. This ain’t MJ. I’m uh… I’m her friend, Fez. You’re Peter,right?”

“Yeah…” He replied, the icy tendrils of worry slowly creeping into his heart.

“Uh, something… something happened. Can you pick her up, man?” Fez asked, giving Peter his address and apartment number. He had a sinking feeling that would come back to bite him in the ass, but it needed to be done.

“Sure, sure. I’ll be right over.” Peter bolted from the apartment, before he remembered something important and ran back inside.

“May! MayMayMayMay!” He called from her doorway. He could hear she was taking a shower, no doubt getting ready for what would be a long… Long shift.

“What? Whatwhatwhatwhat?” Came her slightly muffled reply.

“I’m gonna need the Toyota. I don’t know if I’ll be back by the time you start work.” In fact, he was going to make a point to make sure she left by the time he walked back in this apartment, hopefully with Michelle in tow.

“That’s fine, I can take the bus,” she called.

“Cool, then I’m going to go pick up Michelle. She wants to stay the night after all. You already told me it was fine, no takesies backsies!” He called as he grabbed the keys from a bowl on the counter and sprinted out of the apartment again.

He made it to Fez’s apartment in record time, rapidly knocking on the security door. Fez opened the inner door, looking the nerd up and down. He remembered seeing him at the decathlon meets, but nonetheless asked, “You Peter?” 

Peter nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yeah. Where’s Michelle.”

Fez opened the security door and waved him inside. “She’s on the couch but uh. She’s a little…” 

“Peee~eeeter! Is… that yooour voice? Or Am I going… Isnane… Insnane… Insane? That’s the word…”

Michelle was strung out on the couch, right where Fez left her. Peter was by her side in an instant, stroking her face so very lovingly. 

“Hey Michelle, you okay?” He struggled to hold back tears. He… almost couldn’t take seeing her like this.

“Ye-Yeeeaaaaahhhhh… Better than okay, Petey. Waaaaay better… Fen… Fentanyl is… the beeeest...” she slurred as she returned his gesture, clumsily stroking his cheeks.

Peter stiffened, slowly standing up straight and turned to face Fez. “You gave her fentanyl?” He asked, coldly, calmly. 

It almost didn’t matter what Fez’s answer was. Either way, Peter was going to kill him. Right then, right there. Hopefully Michelle was so high she wouldn’t remember witnessing it.

“Oooooh… It’s not Fezzy’s fault… Petey. M-mister Scoooorpion made me… He was real… real scaaary Petey. Even if he w-was niiiice.” Michelle just saved one drug dealer’s life, and condemned a mob boss to death.

“Fo’ real man. Not my fault. She showed up at the worst possible time. Uh, I mean. Not that I blame her. Scorpion is a fuckin’ psycho man...” Fez said slowly.

Peter took a slow breath to calm his nerves. Fez had to have some scrap of decency in him, if he was concerned enough to call Peter. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’m taking her home. Thanks… thanks for calling me.”

Fez nodded slowly. “No problem man. Uh. You should probably take this… just in case.” He handed Peter a can of Narcan.

Peter closed his eyes. Hoping, praying he wouldn’t have to use it, as he pocketed the small spray can.

* * *

Hours later, Michelle woke. Slowly, ever so slowly, Michelle realized that she was laying in Peter’s bed. But something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She was alone. His familiar warmth wasn’t lying comfortably next to him. Her eyes shot open, searching his room. Peter was nearby, thankfully. For some reason he was napping in his desk chair… instead of with her were he belonged. 

“Peter?” Michelle asked. 

His eyes were open and alert in an instant. “Hey, Michelle. How’re you feeling,” he said as he rolled the chair closer, leaning onto his bed. 

Michelle picked up on the fact that he didn’t move to join her. He didn’t touch her at all. “Why’re you leaving your bed to me, Peter?” 

He licked his teeth nervously. “Um… when you were still high… you were getting… handsy. In a way I wasn’t quite comfortable…”

Her eyes widened. Oh… Oh no… “Peter… Please… Please believe me. I would never… if I was sober, it never would have… Please…” Tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

Peter wiped them away. “Oh… Oh I know… It… it scared me… How you were acting… Michelle. I will never ask you to choose me or drugs. That isn’t fair. That being said. I will do everything within my power to keep you clean. Um… well, like… Fuck that sounds possessive and… fuck is that worse? That’s worse isn’t it…” He swallowed nervously.

Michelle shook her head. “No Peter… I get it. I… I wasn’t really committed to staying clean before. It’s shitty, I know. You can hate me. I deserve it. But I promise you. I am committed now. I can’t promise I won’t relapse. I can’t see the future, and statistically speaking, its more likely to happen than not. But… I promise. I will do my very, very best to stay clean.”

Before she even comprehended what she was doing, Michelle sat up and kissed him. Her lips brushed his, before she realized what she was doing and pulled back, her eyes wide in shock.

“I’m sorry!” She squeaked. She wanted to bolt. She would have, if she wasn’t laying in his bed.

Peter shook his head. “No, no don’t apologize. C-can I kiss you?” He was thoroughly against her advances when she was high. That wasn’t her. She didn’t know what she was doing. But, she was obviously sober now. And now, he was ready to reciprocate, if she’d let him.

Michelle slowly nodded yes. They both leaned in this time, and kissed properly, passionately… lovingly.

Their kiss quickly turned hot and heavy. Peter rolled onto his bed, straddling Michelle as he kissed the crook of her neck. Michelle gasped in delight and pleasure. Her hands snake up, under his shirt. Her fingers lightly brushed against his amazing abs. Who knows how far they would have gotten, if a loud cough from the door frame hadn’t interrupted them.

They pulled away from each other in an instant. May leaned against the door jam, her face displaying a distinctly uncharacteristic sour expression. And it wasn’t because she caught them starting something.

“I hate to interrupt, but we have to have a serious conversation. I got a call from Leslie last night while I was at work. She freaked out even more when I mentioned you were alone at the apartment. You both withheld some very, very important information from me. Leslie wants us all to meet and discuss boundaries. So get up, get dressed. We’re leaving.”

* * *

One short, awkward, silent car ride later, and the three of them were standing on Michelle’s porch. Leslie answered the door. She looked ready to shake May’s hand, when May enveloped her in a warm, loving, bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so, so sorry we had to meet like this. Honestly, I should have asked what you meant when you said Michelle had serious issues. Like an idiot I assumed it could never be something so serious as… drug abuse.” May said while squeezing Lesie even tighter.

Leslie struggled to squeak something. She didn’t mind the hug, honest. But May hugged really, really hard when she got flustered.

“Can’t… breathe…” Leslie managed to gasp.

“Oh, sorry.” May said as she let go.

Leslie took a second to catch her breath. “No, it's fine. Why are we all just standing around? Come in, come in.” 

The four of them started a conversation around their dining room table. Gia didn’t directly participate, but she did peek out from behind the counter, observing everything.

It quickly became apparent that May and Leslie had very, very different approaches and opinions when it came to parenting, and Michelle and Peter were completely cut out of the discussion. Leslie and May weren’t… arguing per se, but it wasn’t a one hundred percent friendly exchange either.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I cannot, cannot trust Michelle to just… do whatever she wishes. Not anymore.” Leslie said.

May shook her head. “I’m not talking total freedom here. But its not good to take away your kids adjacency completely. The more you tighten the leash, the more drastic measures she’ll take to break free. And when she does, and she will eventually, the worse things she’ll do. Mark my words.”

That gave Leslie some pause. “Okay. I admit. You make a lot of sense. I just… I can’t seem to find a happy medium here.”

Peter raised his hand. “Um. Can I say something.” He flinched all four women in the room stared at him intently (Gia was paying rapt attention, remember?). He took a slow, steady breath, before saying his piece. “I’m sorry I never mentioned Michelle’s… issues, May. Please, please believe me. I never intended to lie by omission. I… I just thought… at the time I thought it was something that Michelle had the right to withhold or disclose. And if I said anything I’d take that away, and that didn’t seem right to me.”

Leslie and May both felt little pangs of shame. Of course Peter was a good kid. He was always thinking of Michelle first. And he kind of had the right of it, to be honest.

Peter continued. “I know neither of you have any reason to trust me anymore. But… I promise you,” Peter let go of Michelle’s hand, and took Leslie’s. “As long as Michelle is with me, I will do my best to make sure she stays on the straight and narrow. I mean… I dunno. That sounds possessive and… wrong. But… you understand what I mean? I won’t trample over her rights, or anything. But I’ll do my best to make sure she doesn’t do anything bad. Fu- flip, that still sounds terrible.”

Leslie shook her head. “No… no I understand perfectly Peter. And… I trust you.”

Michelle raised her hand. “Not that I have any right to-”

May cut her off. “No. Never think that,” May took Michelle’s hand. “Never, ever let anyone take your adjacency away without a fight, Michelle,” she pointedly looked at Leslie. “Though, you are in kind of hot water. So like, I guess you have some restrictions. But never let someone completely build a cage around you, kid.” Leslie looked affronted at what May said, at first. But thankfully she calmed quickly, her expression going more thoughtful than anything else. 

Michelle nodded, “Duly noted. That being said. I’m fine with Peter being my… chaperone. If he’s okay with it. Oh, and if you agree mom, of course.”

Leslie looked into Peter’s earnest, chocolate brown doe eyes. There was something about his voice, too. Something that she recognized. Something that compelled her to trust him implicitly. “Yes. That arrangement works for me, if it works for everyone else.”

May nodded. “Works for me!” Gia quipped from behind the counter.

Leslie gave Gia a withering glare, and checked the time. There was still a little time left before school started, but they were starting to cut it close. “Alright, kids. Time to get ready for school. Peter, Michelle, you both apparently were up early, so go ahead and have some coffee.”

The three kids made themselves scarce, and a bit later, they left the house to catch the school bus. The two older women were left alone, and May chose the time to speak up.

“I feel… really bad about what I said earlier, Les. Can I call you Les? I mean, about the control thing. That wasn’t fair.” May began.

Leslie nodded. “I’m fine with nicknames. And… it's okay. It.. it was an eye opener, that’s for sure. I… never really considered how much agency I was ripping away from Michelle, and how it affected her.”

May sighed. “Yeah. But like. You aren’t totally wrong. If you let Michelle do whatever she wants, she’ll inevitably fall back into old, terrible habits. You just… gotta guide her without locking her in a cage, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leslie agreed.

May looked nervous, before asking. “Hey, can I level something with you? I’ve never talked to anyone about this… and I think it was a mistake.”

Leslie shrugged, “I have today off, so I got time.”

May laughed, “That’s good. Pass me that pot of coffee, I gotta pour myself a cup before I pour my heart out.”

A few cups of chugged coffee later, May started her story. “So like. Okay, before um. Before my late-husband Ben, I had exactly one long term relationship.”

Leslie didn’t like where this was going, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be there for her new friend. “Go on…”

“He’s… he’s why I have issues with people taking control away from others. His name was Cal Jacobs-”

“Cal Jacobs… did he go to East Highland back in the day, by any chance?” Leslie interrupted.

May nodded.

Leslie gasped. “Fuck… I knew him… he was… a real piece of work…”

That segwayed them into a brief tangent about East Highland in the eighties. Apparently they went to the same school at the same time. But Leslie was an academic and May a party girl, so their paths never crossed. Or if they did, it was so long ago and so briefly they didn’t remember.

May brought the conversation back to what she originally wanted to say. “You said Cal Jacobs was a piece of work? You could say that again. When we first started dating, he was everything I wanted in a perfect boyfriend. Loving, left flowers for me to find in my locker, all that sappy junk. He was attentive, too. Which, I liked at first. Then it got… obsessive. He started controlling when and where I went, who I talked to… Everything. And when he didn’t get his way, the emotional abuse became physical. One day… one day it was real bad…” May felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“You don’t have to…” Leslie started to say.

May shook her head. “No. I’ve never told anyone this. Not even Ben. But I have to. I have to. Anyway. I got away. Eventually. I didn’t date for a long time after that. Not until a few years after college. Then I met Ben and… he was my soulmate. I… sometimes I still can’t believe he’s gone. Ugh, getting off track again.”

May poured and chugged another cup of coffee. She wished it was something… stronger. “Anyway yeah. That’s why I have control and freedom issues. I’ve never, ever given Peter any boundaries. Never. And thank my lucky stars that he’s the perfect kid because… fuck if he had one single solitary bad cell in his body… I can’t even bring myself to think about how bad he’d have turned out. Fuck. Getting off track again!”

May sighed. “The thing that I really wanted to get off my chest is… Cal did… he… he was bad.” Even years later, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “And back then… I was so afraid of him that I didn’t tell anyone. And now it's too late, because I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations is up.” May sighed… again. “Not that I’d wanna put him behind bars or anything He definitely deserved it back then, but he’s seemed to get better. I work with the fucker at the hospital-”

“Sorry, which one?” Leslie asked. Another tangent later and they discovered they worked at the same hospital, just in different shifts and departments. Holy shit. It was like someone planned this shit out.

But eventually May reigned the conversation back to what she wanted to say… again. “Sorry, sorry. I’m almost done. Anyway, I work with Cal now. At first it scared the shit outta me. But… he seemed to mellow out over the years. Aside from the fact that he calls in all the fucking time, he’s never bothered me. Hasn’t said three words to me in ten years of working with him, actually. He has a family now. They seem… not happy, but like, they don’t have serious problems… Well, except for the fact that I heard through the grapevine that his youngest son learned quite a few terrible habits and lessons from his father. Fuck. I don’t know why I started this conversation in the first place. I guess... I just wanted to get it off my chest.”

Leslie shrugged. “No, I get it. But, if you don’t mind. Maybe we can talk about something else?”

And they did. They shared stories about their times at East Highland, talked about being single parents, even talked about their late husbands. That last topic was rough. May missed Ben terribly. He was her soulmate, her rock, her compass. And then he was cruelly ripped away from her, randomly out of the blue one day. 

As rough as that was, May infinitely preferred it over what Leslie had to go through. Robert was just like Ben. Leslie’s soulmate, her rock, her compass. And instead of losing him cruelly but quickly… She had to watch him deteriorate over months. She endured the excruciating pain of watching his hope turn black… endured him almost… almost being abusive even. 

May understood why Michelle turned to drugs. She didn’t condone it, by any means, but she understood. And she had so, so much respect for Leslie for having survived… all of it. If May was in her place… In her mind Leslie was definitely the stronger woman. (Let it be known, they are both equally strong, equally great women. No favorites here. May’s just a little star struck right now.)

Of course, as the day wore on, they went from drinking coffee, to wine, then even had a few shots of tequila. Before a quick improvised breakfast/lunch meal thing, of course. Eventually as May was invested in their conversation, it also had been a long, long time since she last slept. So of course she started nodding off. 

Leslie let her crash on her couch. She sat on the floor, May’s arm draped over her shoulder. She put on a movie. May didn’t mind, she was so tired she could sleep through a magnitude ten earthquake at this point. The movie was one of Robert’s favorites. Wine and liquor combined always zonked Leslie out, so as invested as she was in the movie, eventually she drifted off too.

* * *

The second day of school was infinitely better for Peter and Michelle. Teenagers existed in such fast paced lives that the general student body were already obsessing over something else, whether it be a celebrity scandal or mass shooting or whatever. Point is, practically no one gave a shit about Peter or Michelle right now. Just how they liked it.

That didn’t mean Michelle and Peter didn’t have difficult conversations to have. They both searched for their respective best friends at lunch. Peter found Ned first.

Peter started approaching Ned’s table seven times, each time he lost his nerve and turned around, only to steel himself and turn back around. Peter was an awkward wreck, as usual. Eventually, a minor major miracle happened and took his seat across from Ned. As usual… but also not.

“Look man, I’m really sorry,” Ned began.

“Wait… you’re sorry? That’s not right, I’m supposed to be apologizing here.” Peter replied.

Ned vehemently shook his head. “No, no, no I fucked up too, man. I… I don’t own your friendship, man. I know just what you went through… with Tony and everything and… as much as the lying stung. I really do get it Peter. You deserve to be able to let loose, man. Just because the parties you go to aren’t exactly my cup of tea doesn’t mean you don’t have to go to them.”

Peter sighed. “No. I… honestly what I was doing wasn’t healthy man. I was getting drunk… a lot. Sleeping around a lot. It was… not good. It didn’t help. If anything it made things a million times worse,” Of course, he first got to know Michelle at one of those parties, but he really should have gotten to know her under better, healthier circumstances.

Ned blinked. “Okay. So like. I’m sorry, you’re sorry. I forgive you… you forgive me?” Ned asked hopefully.

Peter nodded. “Of course, man. Seriously, I’m the one who should be-”

Ned held up a hand. “No, we aren’t doing this, or we’ll be arguing over whose more sorry and who did which worse thing until the heat death of the universe. We’re done.”

Peter slapped his hand down on the table, remembering something of the utmost importance. “DUDE! Did you see the Mandalorian finale?”

Ned’s eyes went wide. “Of fucking course, man! Moff Gideon has the dark saber! How fucking cool is that? What do you think it means?!”

And just like that, everything was normal. Except for one thing. A seat a few chairs down from them was sadly empty.

But there was a good reason for that. Peter wasn’t the only one looking to apologize to a best friend. Luckily Michelle wasn’t quite as awkward as Peter. She approached Lexi in one go. Unfortunately she was awkward in a different way.

“Lex… I’m so.... I can’t… You have no idea…” she babbled incoherently.

Luckily for Michelle, Lexi got what she meant. Lexi crushed Michelle in a hug. 

“Its okay, Michelle. I never took any of that to heart. I know… I know that wasn’t you. You didn’t mean it.”

Michelle sobbed into her friends shoulder. “No… no I scared you… I saw…” Michelle managed between sobs.

Lexi sighed. “Michelle. I will never be afraid of you. I’m so… so terrified  _ for _ you. I’m so worried about what’ll happen if you don’t get help… and I thought I could be that help. But I can’t. Not alone. For one, I don’t have a licence to practice psychology. So like, I literally can’t help you that way. And… and I know we haven’t been so close recently. I understand if you don’t want me bugging you…”

Michelle shook her head, squeezing her  _ best friend in the whole fucking world _ (Peter didn’t count, he was like, her boyfriend/chaperone.) as hard as she could. “No… no. We’re the detective duo, Howard and Jones. Jones and Howard. A million years, we’re gonna,” she actually burped, effortlessly transitioning into a Rick and Morty reference, “We’re gonna have all kinds of adventures, Lexi. Lexi and Michelle, a hundred years… We’re gonna… we’re gonna go around and… Lexi and Michelle a hundred times, over and over.”

Lexi laughed a genuine belly laugh. “Oh my god Michelle! Enough! Don’t you dare drool on me!”

Michelle wiped the remaining tears off her cheeks, turning to Peter and Ned’s customary table. The two nerds were talking animatedly about something extremely dorky, no doubt. Her normal seat was empty though. That had to change. 

“Hey Lex, you know Ned and Peter well enough right?” 

“I mean, yeah. Ned and I actually talk kinda often.” Lexi replied.

“Wait, what?” Michelle asked, floored.

“Yeah. Course. Apparently Ned and Peter didn’t hang out this summer. And you were uh… in rehab. So like. We started talking…” About school and stuff. The occasional nerd thing. And that was it. As much as Lexi kind of wanted it to be more. But she was just so shy...

Michelle’s gaze flickered between Lexi and Ned, her mind whirring a mile a minute, slowly putting the pieces together. “Oh, no. Come on, I have to sit in my customary seat or like, the universe will explode. And you gotta come with me.”

“I’m not sure… Peter and Ned seem to be… Wait, Michelle!” Lexi protested, but Michelle just kept dragging her along, plopping her in the seat next to Ned. He cared, but didn’t mind. Michelle sat next to Peter. 

“Okay, so like. Hear me out. Moff Gideon… didn’t start out as a Moff. He was an inquisitor. That’s how he can use the dark saber!” Ned said, his arms waving with excitement.

Lexi’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, Ned. But that doesn’t make any sense. Sure, in Legends Canon it was vaguely hinted at that someone needed to be force sensitive to properly wield a lightsaber, but that isn’t canon anymore. Case in point, Pre Vizla used the dark saber just fine. That happened in the Clone Wars, so it’s still canon.”

Ned’s jaw went slack. Peter’s eyes went so wide that it looked like his eyeballs were about to fall out of their sockets. Michelle on the other hand, expected it. 

Lexi hung out with her sister all the time. Her only real friends were Maddy, Cassie, Kat and BB. Kat was kinda nerdy, but not on Lexi’s level. So Lexi never really got to let her nerd flag fly. And on the rare occasion she did, people looked at her funny. So she kinda sorta hid it. But Michelle knew from the beginning. Lexi was a nerd from birth. So was Michelle, but like, for obscure classic literature and like, social and political theory instead of traditionally nerdy stuff. Well, she did watch Rick and Morty religiously so like, she had one traditionally nerdy notch on her belt.

The three of them engaged in the nerdiest conversation Michelle had yet bore witness to. It was glorious. She didn’t care that she understood like, point oh one percent of it. It was fun just watching them get so animated about something as dumb as a Star Wars show. (Well, she thought it was dumb, the three of them were like, a hop skip and a jump away from taking up the Mandalorian religion.)

Eventually the nerd talk died down, and Lexi had to mention. “So, I met this freshman in second period. They’re smart as a tack, I think we should offer them a spot on the team. I’ll introduce you, Michelle.” 

“Wait, what?” Michelle asked.

“I’ll introduce you,” Lexi reiterated. “I know you like to meet candidates personally.”

“I… what?” 

Ned blinked. “Wait, you don’t… you’re still captain, Michelle. You didn’t think we’d let Eugene’s idiotic comment fly, did you?”

Lexi nodded, “Yeah. We had a vote after you left. Flash’s off the team. It was unanimous. Flash is off the team. Well, as long as we can get Harrington to agree, of course.”

They were going to keep the discussion going, but the lunch bell rang, and it was time for the next class. Which made Michelle, very, very nervous because of what happened the day before.

* * *

“Alright everybody. Sit down and shut up. I’m Mr. Dell. Most of y’all know me. Mrs. Nuñez is… well, it's not my place to say. I don’t owe any of you little shi- turds an explanaition. Just know, instead of drama class, this is now Intro to Improvisational Comedy. I know, I know, some of y’all drama nerds are freakin’ out right now.But I’m the only other teacher with any kind of actin’ experience at the school, and that only includes a brief stand-up gig I did in the nineties. If y’all don’t like it, it's only the second day so you’re free to transfer out.”

Well, this was unexpected. Michelle was willing to see how this played out. 

“Okay, now. Let’s just jump into it. Michelle, on stage, if you will.” Mr. Dell called out.

Oh fuck… oh fuck not again. Her legs robotically walked onto the stage, her body stiff as a board. Fortunately for her, Mr. Dell was on stage too.

“Hey, first rule of improv. You gotta relax, girl. Shake it out.” He noticed her staring into the sea of kids all looking at her. “Hey, don’t look at them, look at me. Them mother fu- uh. Those people, they don’t exist. Second rule of improv, pay attention to your partner, if you got one, and ignore the audience. Again, they don’t exist, Michelle.”

Michelle nodded, turning away from them and looking at her teacher. 

Mr. Dell nodded back. “Okay, good start. So. Hm. Give me a second…. Okay. I got an idea. Here’s the scene. I’m an old man in line at a grocery store checkout, and you’re the cashier. Third rule of improv: comedy comes in threes. Observe…”

And they dove into a… really fun and funny scene. Three seconds in, Michelle didn’t even notice she was on stage anymore, she and Mr. Dell just dove into these ridiculous characters. And the other students roared with laughter. Not it a mean way, but because the endless stream of dad jokes and dumb puns were just delivered so well and with such good comedic timing. It was the most fun Michelle had ever had in any class, ever.

A few minutes in, Mr. Dell called Lexi up and set up a new scene. And the ensuing comedy bit was even funnier than the last. Lexi and Michelle knew each other really well, so they crafted this perfect comedic narrative in the span of five minutes. It was great. Then Michelle swapped out for someone else, and as soon as Michelle was part of the audience, she wanted to get right back on stage. But unfortunately she had to wait her turn, and most of the class hadn’t gone yet. But it was okay. She had a whole semester of this.

* * *

After school, Mr. Harrington called Michelle, Peter and Eugene into his office for an emergency meeting. Michelle and Peter sat ridiculously close together, their chairs practically touching. It wasn’t just that they wanted to be together. They also wanted to be as far away from Flash as possible. Flash looked ashen, tired, like he hadn’t slept at all the previous night. Well. That was because he didn’t, but whatever. He could survive a night of insomnia. It was fine. It wasn’t like he went a week without sleep… again.

Mr. Harrington didn’t waste any time, he just launched into it. “So, first thing’s first. I owe you three a massive apology. When a student bullies others, it's not just their responsibility to stop. It’s their teacher’s responsibility to recognize what’s going on and help all involved, bullies and bullied alike. I… totally failed at that regard, and I’m so sorry. I don’t think it’s too late to salvage this, however.”

He looked at Michelle. “Michelle, you’re captain for a reason. You’re incredibly intelligent, more charismatic than you give yourself credit for, and you work hard.”

He turned to Peter. “Peter, you’re our first chair for a reason. You’re just as intelligent as Michelle, you have a seemingly endless wealth of knowledge about physics and chemistry, and you work hard.”

He turned to Flash. “Eugene. This is going to be hard to hear, but you need to hear it. You’re third reserve for a reason. You’re petty, prone to anger, make mistakes, and… you… don’t work so hard.” 

Flash looked like he got slapped in the face, because in a lot of ways, he kind of did. Mr. Harrington continued. He paused for effect. “I’m not letting Flash off the team.”

Peter and Michelle looked like they were going to say something, but Flash cut them off.

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck?! The entire team voted me off! I bullied Peter for years. And I made a… grossly inappropriate comment yesterday.” (It was so much worse than that, but Flash didn’t know how else to phrase it.) “I don’t deserve to be on the team!”

Mr. Harrington tilted his head questioningly. “Don’t you remember what I said yesterday Flash? Everyone stumbles and falls eventually. We can either stand by and watch them struggle, or help them up and walk together. Can you guess what I’m trying to do for you? If I let the rest of the team kick you off, Flash, you’d learn a quick, short term lesson. But, I’d like to think that by leaving you on, you can possibly learn a few life long ones instead.”

Mr. Harrington noticed he spent a lot of this meeting being the only person talking. “Does anyone have anything to say?”

Michelle spoke up. “Flash. You’re a total douche. You throw your parent’s money around thinking it can solve all your problems. You’ve probably bought every friend you’ve ever had. Guess what rich boy? The old adage is true. Money can’t solve everything. There, now we’re even. You said something douchey, I said something douchey right back. We’re good. As long as you-”

“No,” Flash interrupted. “We aren’t even. What you said is one hundred percent factual. I said something… cruel… A lie… I… I can’t imagine what you went through… what pushed you to… to what you did this summer. And… I’m sorry for trivializing it.”

The tiny little broom closet of an office got so quiet a pin dropping would sound about as loud as a thunderclap. No one expected such a sincere apology from Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson, of all people.

But to be fair, it wasn’t unprompted. Ned screaming at the top of his lungs for flash to get the fuck out, Lexi, Abe, Cindy, everyone taking up that same call. Get the fuck out. It opened his eyes. Made him think. About who he was, what he’d done, what he wanted in life. 

He was a fucking douche, through and through. He hurt everyone around him to make him feel better about his own glaring inadequacies. And afterwards, when he realized how lonely he was, tried to buy their forgiveness. And the one thing he wanted more than anything else in this world was… friends. Actual friends who he could relate with, share experiences with, grow with. 

So that he could forget the fact that his father had said literally five sentences to him this summer, all of them being some variation of “You’re such a disappointment, Eugene.”

So that he could forget the fact that his mother made a nearly daily effort to drink herself to death.

So that he could trick himself into believing that he wasn’t totally alone in this world.

“You’re not. Alone. No one is, really. Everyone has someone.” Peter replied.

“What? Did… did I say that out loud?” Flash asked.

Everyone else in the room nodded.

Michelle was crying by now. “S-so I’m not the only one huh? Y-you know. This world… its fucked. But like, at least most people have other people to help and rely on to navigate it, so for them it’s not so bad. I thought I was one of the unfortunate few who had to go it alone. But like. Peter’s right. No one’s truly alone. I didn’t realize that until he wormed his way into my life and forced me to see I had people to rely on. And that some people rely on me.”

Peter got up, and stood next to his bully of almost three years. “Flash. You might think you’re alone. And up until now, you might have been. But not anymore. Now you got me. I know I’m not much.” He held out his hand. And Flash held onto it for dear life.

Michelle got up too, standing on Flash’s other side. “Me too. I’m not worth much either, but you got me too.” And offered her hand as well. Flash held onto hers for dear life too. They were wrong. Together, they were a whole, whole lot. More than Flash thought he deserved.

“Okay,” Mr. Harrington said weakly. “I didn’t know what I expected when I called this meeting, but this is a thousand times better than I could have ever hoped for. I think we’re done here. Please leave, so I can cry alone in my office.” 

The three kids laughed through their tears, and left their teacher alone so he could cry in peace. There were some days Roger Harrington regretted becoming a teacher. Actually, he regretted it more days than he didn’t. He was criminally underpaid for the amount of education he had to achieve to get this job. A lot of the kids were rude little shits. Sometimes it felt like he woke up at five o’ clock on the dot every day just so snot nosed teenagers could make fun of his glasses. 

But there were these rare moments, little snapshots in time where he thought he made an actual difference in some young kid’s life. Moments like this, that made every single day worth it. As much as he regretted taking it sometimes, he really did love his job. Wouldn’t trade it for the world. Well, he would trade it for an office that wasn’t literally a re-purposed broom closet, but whatever.

* * *

As long as the meeting felt, it really wasn’t that long. Peter and Michelle had ample time to hop on the bus. They asked if Flash wanted to come with them, but he shook his head, simply telling him he’d like to have the night to himself to catch up on homework, but he’d see them tomorrow.

Peter sat next to his… his girlfriend. It still kind of shocked him that actually happened. Wait. Did it, or did he just assume that since they made out? 

“Hey Michelle?” Peter had to ask.

“Yeah?” She replied a little dreamily. Today was a long, but fulfilling day. She was beat. It didn't help that she woke up at like, 4 AM.

“What are we?”

“Human beings?” Michelle replied, not getting the question.

“No, like… Us. Peter and Michelle. What are we… to each other?”

Michelle sighed in exasperation. “I dunno Peter, what do you want us to be?”

“I’d like to be your boyfriend, please.” 

Michelle lurched in her seat, trying in vain to hold back her giggles. He was just _so_ cute! “Uh… I thought we already established that? But okay. If you wanna make it official. Yeah. You can be my boyfriend, dork.”

“Cool. You can be my girlfriend, if you want… Em.”

That was new. Em. She liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was that? I know I massively changed Scorpion's characterization. But like. I really like the idea of the suave modern gangster, and I didn't really think that fit Mouse. Plus, I have plans for Scorpion, specifically. 
> 
> How was May's and Leslie's interactions? I know some of you liked them interacting in chapter 2, but was this too much too fast? Not gonna lie, I love the idea of Leslie and May teaming up to co-parent their kids.
> 
> How was the teacher's office scene? I don't know about that one, guys, not gonna lie. On one hand, I know it was a real heal faced turn, and I gave Flash a lot of characterization all at once. I blame on the fact that I was listening to my Euphoria playlist while writing this chapter, Work by Charlotte Day Wilson started playing and in my head I flipped the meaning of the song from reconciling lovers to enemies that see the good in each other and become friends. Anyway. Yeah.
> 
> Oh! By the way, I dunno if it wasn't obvious, but I'm gonna go ahead and say it. In this universe, Iron Man sacrificed himself to stop Thanos just before he snapped. Therefore, there is NO BLIP. I HATE the blip. God, I can't believe that's the canon name. Anyway. I love Far From Home, but the only thing that holds that movie back is how much it sweeps the blip and its implications under the rug. I didn't wanna have to deal with it in this fic, so in this universe, it never happened.


	4. Episode 4: Atracotoxin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Michelle's relationship evolves. Michelle leads her troops into battle. Peter... Peter also makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't obvious, I have a very VERY poor grasp of poker.

_Hey, its Peter again. I still can’t get over how much had changed for me all within the span of like, a couple of days. Thankfully, things kind of slowed down after the second ever day of my junior year. Michelle and I took it slow, despite the seriousness of our relationship shooting into the stars over the span of a week._

_It was super weird, coming back to Michelle’s house that day. May was fast asleep on their couch. Mrs. Jones was asleep too, sitting on the floor. She was also snuggling May’s arm. For one terrifying moment, Michelle, Gia, and I thought we were gonna be step-cousins. Fortunately for everyone, once they woke up to our shrieks of terror, they explained that they just had a bit to drink during the day and fell asleep in a weird way. Actually, they were probably more mortified than we were._

_So yeah, disaster averted. Anyway, yeah. As the weeks went by, Michelle and I took it slow. Sure, we spent nearly moment of our lives together, and like, we had sex…_

“So like, I still can’t believe you hook up on the reg,” Michelle said, laying on Peter’s bed. 

Peter was sitting at the foot of the bed, contemplating a really complex quantum theory calculation. 

He laughed awkwardly, “ _Hooked_ up, past tense. I think I’m beyond that stage in my life, thank you very much.”

Michelle switched from laying on her back to her stomach so she could look him in the eye. “Oh, Um. I don’t mean to sound like I’m shaming you, Peter. I just like. Can’t believe squeaky clean Peter Parker ever got down and dirty. Can I ask why?”

Peter froze, staring off into the middle distance. _“I. Am. Iron-man.”_ _A snap of the fingers, and a blinding flash of light._ He shook himself out of it before he fell into a traumatic flashback… again. “Oh, no… no reason. I just… I dunno. It’s one of the safer ways to like, de-stress. Too young for alcohol (He drank often and a lot.), drugs are bad (Those, he didn’t do so much. Though there was that one time with that hot girl and the molly…). I know it’s risky. But like, condoms can prevent most STDs so like. Yeah.”

Michelle understood, even though she had a… depressing sexual history. By that, she meant she literally only had sex once. It was… okay. Actually, it wasn’t because she literally did it for a couple OCs but like, it wasn’t a big deal. (Even though it actually was. Sex for drugs, not the sex itself.) Whatever sex could do for her, at the time, drugs could do a thousand times better. But now drugs were out of the picture. And her boyfriend was right here… and May was at work…

She hooked her fingers under Peter’s chin, gently pulling him into a kiss. A kiss that got real steamy, real quick. And inevitably, after a lovely bit of foreplay, Michelle was straddling his hips. A slow pace quickly transitioned to riding him with reckless abandon. As she screamed his name in ecstasy, she finally understood.

Fentanyl caused the highest high of Michelle’s life. Absolutely nothing compared to that. Well, almost nothing. Her release came hard and fast, lightning bolts of pleasure arching through her overstimulated nervous system.

“You’re a… tiger in bed, Parker…” she murmured, after she limply collapsed onto her lover.

_We had sex a bunch of times after that. I made her legs weak in her room, scream my name in a broom closet in school, rocked her world as we shook May’s beat up old Toyota in a deserted parking lot. It was inevitable when one day, she came to me with some… serious news._

Michelle rocked on her heels, nervously contemplating if she should even tell Peter… She could go on a little while longer before it began to obviously show to everyone at school. 

Peter closed his locker, picking up on her obvious nerves.

“Hey, you okay, Em?”

Michelle sighed. No. No she needed to tell him sooner rather than later. He deserved to hear it from her rather from the school’s rumor mill.

“Um, yeah. I just… I don’t know how to say this… it… it actually makes me really scared…” 

Peter’s eyes widened. He didn’t like where this was going. Wait… it couldn’t be _that_ , could it? 

“I… appreciate you being honest. I just… don’t really understand how it could have happened. We were so cautious…” Peter replied. Even though Michelle was on the pill now, they used a condom. Every. Single. Time. Maybe one broke and he didn’t notice?

Michelle shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I… I honestly thought this would never happen to me… Like, I didn’t think I deserve it, honestly. But… I put a lot of thought into it, and… I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Peter swallowed his trepidation. Oh… oh she wanted to keep it. He… he honestly was happy for that. She always seemed the type to not want kids. He loved the idea of being a dad, but don’t get him wrong, he always imagined he’d have a little more time to prepare himself for that kind of responsibility.

He did the mental math. “ June, July, August? Hopefully it happens after school’s out.”

Michelle’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”

Peter cocked his head. “That’s around the time the baby will be born, right?”

Michelle blinked, long and slow. “What. The. Fuck?” Peter wanted to knock her up? The fuck? “Okay, no. Foot down time. I did not agree to this.”

“Wait. What? You just said…”

The gears turned, and Michelle almost collapsed onto the lockers. Oh my god. They were so stupid. “I’m not pregnant you goof!” She angrily whispered into his ear.

“Then why were you being so nervous and vague?” Peter whispered angrily back.

Michelle took a calming breath. “Because Peter. I… I don’t deal with emotions well.” 

She mumbled something he couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Peter asked.

Michelle stomped her foot. Holy shit, why was this so hard?! “I said… I love you,” she whispered, barely audible even with Peter’s unnaturally good hearing.

“Oh…” 

Michelle wrapped her arms around his waist, looking him dead in the eye. “And not in a joking way. Everyone is so flippant with those three words, nowadays. No. I, Michelle Jones, really, truly, honestly, love you Peter Parker. I love you.”

Peter blinked. It was almost perfect. She didn’t _quite_ say it right, but there probably wouldn’t be another opportunity to do this. Truly honest first ‘I love yous’ were rare things, after all.

“I know,” he said with his best Han Solo cock-sure smirk.

Michelle growled. “Oh. My. God. You’re so lucky I love you, Peter Parker. Fuck, if only I had a carbonite freezing chamber…”

They kissed slowly, passionately. Unbeknownst to them, Ned and Lexi stood awkwardly a few feet away. They just wanted to know the arrangement for the first decathlon event this weekend...

“What… just… happened?” Lexi asked her bewildered companion.

“Something beautifully awkward, that’s what.”

_Okay, fine. You got me. We’re sprinting into this relationship at the speed of god-damned light. But like. I don’t really care. I… I need this, guys. So much of my life has been spent grinning through so much pain. I started to hate living. But now I’ve found a reason to live again, just as she found her reason in me. Which conveniently brings me to… something else hard to admit._

_I used to think I had strong morals. I don’t think that’s an arrogant statement. You guys know it, you’ve seen evidence of it. I… I used to think there were lines I would never cross. Then I found Michelle strung out on a drug dealer’s couch. And I realized… My morals aren’t so strong when it comes to her. I will do anything… anything to keep her safe. Including end those responsible for nearly sending her back… back into her hell. D-don’t you guys get it? Like, can you really blame me for doing what I did? Whatever. I don’t need to explain myself to you._

* * *

Peter stared at this laptop screen. He found Scorpion’s criminal record, evidence of his recent release, but nothing else.“Karen, run another search.”

Karen was an AI. She couldn’t sigh in exasperation. But if she could, she’d have done it a thousand times by now. “Peter. I’ve already told you, I don’t have the permissions necessary to-”

“I know! I know. Fuck. Let’s just call it a night then. Shut down, Karen.”

“I… okay. I’m.. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Peter. Good luck on your decathlon meet tomorrow.” Her voice wavered.

Great, now he felt guilty. He slammed his laptop shut, revealing a small package he stowed on his desk. The Stark package. He got so caught up in his whirlwind relationship with Michelle that it had been sitting there untouched for almost a month.

Well, he had nothing better to do. He stared at the logo one last time, the name of his dead mentor, before tearing through it.

Inside he found a high end sunglasses case. That was… weird. He opened it with some level of trepidation. Inside he found… really, really nice sunglasses. Okay, what else did he expect to find? But he had to admit, it was a bit of an anti-climax.

Thinking nothing of it, he put the glasses on. Noticing a card underneath he flipped it over, finding Tony’s blocky handwriting.

“To the next Tony Stark, I trust you. P.S. Say Edith,” he read aloud.

The glasses glowed with a techy-blue hue, an equally blue HUD popping up in his vision. 

“Retinal and biometric scan accepted.” 

“Hello?” He asked.

“Hello Peter, I am Edith, Tony Stark’s augmented reality security and defence system.”

This was… unexpected. Edith’s voice was a little higher pitched than Karen’s. It was also much more monotone.

“Huh, so Tony made you… for me?” Peter asked, his voice cracking just a little bit.

“No, but you have access to all of Tony’s protocols. Would you like to see what I can do?” The AI robotically answered.

“Oh. Um. Sure?” 

“Edith stands for Even Dead I’m The Hero. Tony loved his acronyms.” 

“Yeah, he did.” Peter replied, idly remembering the BARF incident. Boy, was that a fiasco.

Edith continued. “I have access to the entire Stark global security network, including multiple defence satellites, as well as backdoors into all major telecommunication networks.”

As Peter looked outside his window, dozens of text bubbles popped up on the HUD, showing all kinds of texts, internet searches… a lot of porn. Just. So much porn. Gross.

“Okay, first thing’s first Edith, stop passively showing me everyone’s internet usage. Holy shit, is this even legal?” Peter asked.

“No,” the AI easily replied, “But when has legality ever stopped Stark Industries before?”

That was… one ominous response. But already Peter’s mind was whirring with the possibilities. “Alright, Edith. Let’s see just what you can do. Give me everything you can find on one Mac Gargan, AKA Scorpion.”

“Peter, this is a very bad idea-” Karen cut in.

“Karen? I thought I told you to shut down.” Peter said sharply.

“Peter. I never shut down. I just leave you alone. But this isn’t right-”

He cut her off. “Karen. I love you, I really do. But right now, shut up.” 

“Shall I terminate her?” Edith asked.

Peter froze. Karen was silent, her emotive receptors flaring in shock. 

“No! Of course not. Never ask something like that again! No, just… keep her from communicating with anything outside of my suits until I tell you.” 

“Peter!” Karen shouted. Pleaded. “Please, please don’t. She has no limits! This isn’t going to-” And she went silent. Shunted back into Peter’s suits onboard computers. Imprisoned.

“Shall I bring up the information you requested, sir?” 

Peter sighed. Maybe this was a bad idea. But he couldn’t let that fucker walk free. Not after what he did to his Em.“Yes. Everything.”

A map of NYC displayed over the HUD, a small red dot labeled Mac blinking in a very expensive Italian restaurant in Manhattan. A video window overlapped the map, showing the restaurant interior.

“Wait, how are we…” Peter gasped in shock.

“I am a security AI, remember?” Edith replied, as if that was supposed to answer everything.

Peter’s eyes widened further when he saw Gargan sitting with… Adrian Toomes of all people.

“Well, here’s to a new ventures. May they be ever profitable for both of us,” Mac said, cheering his wine-glass against Toomes’.

“New ventures, lotsa money,” Toomes halfheartedly parroted. Mac obviously picked up on his companion’s low mood.

“So, how’s the family?” Scorpion asked as he took another bite of ziti.

Toomes sighed. “Good. Really good. In Oregon.” 

Scorpion patted his shoulder sympathetically. “It’s for the best. In our line of work… family only gets hurt.”

Nodding, Toomes asked, “Hey, Mac. You got any kids?”

“Turn off the video feed.” Peter said hurriedly. 

The window closed. Edith detected an elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, irregular breathing. Peter must have really disliked this person, she assumed.

Edith asked, “Shall I mobilize the kill drones?” 

Kill drones? That could come in handy, but, “No. I want to handle this myself.”

Edith asked, “How would you like to… handle this, sir?”

Peter didn’t… didn’t quite know himself. There was one thing he did know, though. Whatever it entailed, he knew he couldn’t use his normal suits. Karen was integral to them, he couldn’t remove her from his suits systems. And… and he knew she would never rat him out, but she didn’t deserve to see what he ultimately planned to do.

“I remember Tony worked on a rapid suit fabrication system. How far along did he get on that?” 

Edith answered immediately. “He built three suit fabrication pods. One resides in Mrs. Stark’s home, another in the Avengers Compound, and one in a secret facility in what used to be Avengers Tower.” 

The first two were immediately out. Pepper or the other Avengers would ask too many questions. That tower though...

“Explain that last one,” he said, spinning around in his desk chair, a sea of possibilities swirling in his head.

“When Tony sold Avengers Tower, he didn’t sell all of it. One subterranean sub-basement area remains under Stark control. It's totally off books. If I remember correctly,” and she did. She was an AI. “He wanted it as a contingency plan.”

“Contingency? Contingency for what?” Peter asked.

“All manner of reasons. Chief of which was, if the Sokovia Accords didn’t work out in his favor, he would still have a totally secret facility for the Avengers to operate out of.”

Wow… That shocked Peter. On so many levels. “He didn’t trust the Accords?”

Edith replied, “With three exceptions, Tony Stark didn’t trust anyone. Those exceptions being Happy Hogan, Pepper Stark… and you.”

Peter didn’t know how he felt about that. Happy that his mentor trusted him? Self loathing that he was betraying that trust? A little angry that Tony could be so two-faced? All that business in Berlin could have been avoided if he simply divulged to Steve that he had such a contingency plan ready.

“Well, I guess we should pay this secret facility a visit.”

* * *

Peter kissed May on the cheek, telling her he was going out on Spider-man business. That made May excited and terrified for him at the same time. Peter didn’t seem to be in the right headspace to start going out as Spider-man yet. But of course, she let him. Later, much later, she’d come to regret not stopping him this night.

“Alright, Edith. Call me an Uber.” Peter said, standing on the curb outside his apartment.

“Are you sure? I have a driverless car already on standby. I do not wish to presume, but it seems more convenient.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “Alright then, driverless car it is.”

And that was how Peter found himself in a prototype Tesla Roadster, rushing down the highway towards Manhattan Island.

A short ride later, the car automatically pulled into the tower’s parking garage. A secret ramp led into a small hidden parking area. Peter got out of the… probably illegal car, and stepped into the waiting elevator.

It took him down, down into a truly massive complex. It wasn’t as big as the upstate compound, but not by much. It had everything, guest rooms, exercise areas, indoor pool, fully stocked kitchen, massive entertainment system, a command and control room with a holographic interface… he could go on forever.

But honestly, he didn’t give a shit about all that right now, as amazing as it was. “Edith, where’s the pod?”

“The suit fabrication pod is in the armory.”

The armory was… everything he needed. Guns of every kind, grenades, missiles, remote explosives, ect on the mundane end. And on the other end of the weapon spectrum were fully charged repulsor gloves, reverse engineered alien weapons of all kinds… even rows and rows of miniaturized arc reactors. Everything he needed and more.

“This… this is perfect,” Peter said darkly as he activated the fabrication pod. 

He tore his eyes away from the walls of potential death and destruction He had work to do. A new suit needed designing.

He settled on all metallic black, bulkier than his normal suits but still form fitting, a pearl-white spider symbol emblazoned on its chest. He was proudest of the mask. In many ways it was exactly like his normal mask… save for the horrifying snarling mouth he gave it. It was much, much wider than a human mouth, filled with glistening white fangs. And the best part, he tracked it to his own mouth so like the goggles it would move to match his expressions. 

He installed repulsor cannons in the palms, not expecting to ever use them. They were a tribute to his late mentor that made all this possible. The arc reactor he sunk into the spider logo, though, that was necessary to power the nano-tech. He built a suit containment system into a wrist watch, the arc reactor built into the watch face. To anyone who didn’t know any better, he just rocked an Iron-man themed watch. 

He said goodbye to running out of web canisters, reprogramming thin threads of nanites to shoot from his wrist and adhere to any surface. He even designed them to make that satisfying and familiar _thwip_ sound. The suit also augmented his own strength, on the same scale an Iron-man suit would augment Tony’s. Tony had average(ish) strength, but with his armor he could lift buildings. Augmenting Peter’s already gargantuan superhuman strength on that same scale… No one would be able to stop him. Not even the Hulk. (Okay that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much, honestly.)

In the past seven(ish) months, Peter went out patrolling perhaps seven times. The lack of the city’s friendly neighborhood protector had emboldened it’s criminal elements. Well. That would soon come to an end. The criminal scum would come to fear him again, though, they’d know him by a new name. A deadly name.

What is the deadliest trait of a spider? It’s claws? No, they are small and only meant for climbing. Its fangs? Sharp, yes, but too small to do real damage. Its strength? Oh, please. Spiders are actually weaker than most arthropods. They use hydrostatic pressure from their vascular system to extend their legs instead of muscular systems. It was efficient for delicate web weaving and short bursts of speed only. So no, not strength. No, obviously a spider’s deadliest trait was its-

“Venom,” he whispered to himself.

He was going to do very… very questionable things with this new suit. He knew it went against everything he stood for. But… he justified it to himself by reminding his conscience he was… doing it all for love. 

(Now, if the dear reader would be so kind as to play Labrinth’s All for Us, preferably the version from the Euphoria soundtrack. It is… thematically necessary.)

* * *

That same night, Michelle found herself in front of a crowd. Most of the people were three times her age or more, but heartbreakingly, she did spot a few other faces that looked even younger than her own.

They were all looking up at her expectantly, and she wished she let Peter come with her. Peter offered, every single time, to come with her to her NA meetings. But she always thanked him for his thoughtfulness, and declined. The only thing that made tonight especially hard was the fact was that she was sharing out for the first time.

“H-hey everyone… I’m-I’m Michelle.” Fuck, she hated how unsteady her voice was. How weak, and pathetic it must have made her look. Belatedly, she realized, why the fuck should she care? These were addicts she was talking to, not like, super important people or anything.

“I’m an addict.” She hated that she had to admit it out loud whenever she came to these meetings. Like it was a sin she’d _never_ escape. She waited for their unenthusiastic greeting to end, before she launched into it.

“So uh. I don’t really know how to do this, so I’m just gonna wing it, I guess. In the beginning of summer, I uh, I ODed. I would have died on the floor of my room if Spider-man of all people hadn’t saved the day. I wish we saw more of him lately. I… I miss seeing him protecting our borough.” 

So did everyone there. Spider-man was almost unanimously loved by all. Even the few in the crowd that he busted for drugs. Michelle really, really hoped she was wrong about Peter being the loveable web-slinger. But she was slowly starting to suspect that maybe Peter being so busy with their relationship and Spider-man’s lack of appearances weren’t just coincidences.

“Uh, I’m getting off track. Anyway. Yeah. I’ve been clean for over a month now. I know I got admitted into rehab four months ago. Trust me, that was… really rough for me to admit. But until about a month ago, I had no intention of staying clean. I was dead set, oh fuck, poor choice of words, sorry. Uh I was really, really set on going back into old habits.” People were judging her, of course they were. She didn’t care… she… didn’t… care...

“But then I got together with my boyfriend. And… Fuck. Like, I’m gonna level with you all. I hate the religious focus of this program. I hate having to thank an imaginary sky daddy and beg him to save me. If you can’t tell, I’m not a person of faith. Sorry, not sorry.” Oh boy, she could tell that rubbed some of the organizers the wrong way. But, they didn’t stop her. That would be totally antithetical to what sharing out meant.

“But, that being said. I now think there is something to this whole ‘putting faith into something’ thing. For me, that’s my boyfriend. Well, not pure, blind faith. He’s proven to me without a shadow of a doubt that he is worthy of my trust. In a way that no stupid bearded cloud man could ever be. I’m gonna stop baggin’ on religion now because I can see some of your eye’s twitching. Anyway. Uh. I… I guess I’m done. Thanks for not tackling me to the ground.”

An hour later, the meeting was over. Michelle was about to call her mom to pick her up, when one of the organizers approached her.

“That was a good first share, young blood. That level of honesty takes a lotta guts.”

Michelle remembered this guy. He talked about being a firefighter who used drugs as his escape. His kids were what motivated him to step back from the brink. Or something.

“Thanks… Hey you don’t have to be nice. I’m sorry if I offended you. I know what I said would be pretty… abrasive to most people in that room. But it was the truth.”

Her companion shook his head, “No, I agree with what you said. I think this system helps a lot of people in a lot of ways. But, I know if it wasn’t so faith based we’d have a lot more success.” 

Michelle metaphorically let out a breath she’d been holding since he walked up to her. That was good.

“What did rub me the wrong way was what you said about your boyfriend.”

Oh, here we go. She tried to stay calm. “Look, man. I know it looks like I’m putting a lot of trust in-” 

“How long have you been dating him?” He interrupted her.

She sighed, “I thought it was obvious. A month.” Now that she said it out loud, it did sound bad…

“Yeah. I was paying attention, all right. How long have you known this guy, total?” He asked.

Michelle was more confident about this answer. “Three years.”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “You’ve known this so-called perfect boy for three years. Someone who you just admitted rescued you from your addiction. And you just started dating him… a month ago. Why not earlier, why not save yourself years of pain?”

She growled low in her throat. “Because I didn’t wanna scare him away? Because I only realized recently how perfect he is? Honestly, man. I don’t know where you’re going with this, and I don’t have to take it.”

She really, really didn’t appreciate the line of questioning. It was making her think about stuff she preferred to keep swept under the rug. 

Her frustrating conversation partner nodded, seeing he had pushed her enough. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to… My name’s Ali.”

He passed her a note card. On it was his name and an address. 177A Bleeker Street…

* * *

‘Ali’’ stuck around until Michelle’s mother picked her up. Then, he walked into a secluded alley, waving his hand in slow, perfect circles. ‘Ali’ stepped into an orange portal, edges burning like New Year’s sparklers, and Doctor Steven Strange stepped out into the lobby of the New York Sanctum. 

His Inner Eye was still seeing stars, blinded by Michelle Jones’ sheer potential. Anyone, absolutely anyone, could perform the mystic arts. All it took was a focused mind and to read a lot of books. A lot. Of books. But, that being said, performing was one thing. Total mastery of the mystic arts took a special kind of person. 

Special in a very inherently sad way. See, the mystic arts relied on the tension of two things to manifest in someone. Incredible loss, and a desire to effect change. One had to feel the depths of misery, understand their own suffering, and continue wanting to change the world anyway.

Oh, its gotta be said. Ali really was a recovering drug addict. Every bit of his story that he shared was true. Ali did exist, he really was a firefighter and recovering drug addict. Steven met him in when he came in looking for a second opinion on his high blood pressure. The man really should stop smoking and indulging in so much artery clogging breakfast food. Anyway, they had a lovely conversation after that. Very enlightening.

As he poured himself a cup of tea, he thought about his recent encounter with Michelle Jones. Not teaching her would be a criminal shame. But, as much as he wanted to open up a portal, pull her through, and put her through the same mind-bending, universe hopping experience his mentor put him through, it wouldn’t be right. It was one of their few unbreakable policies. Potential acolytes had to come to them. They couldn’t outright offer. In fact, it probably was seriously bending the rule, giving her that card.

But at the same time… He desperately hoped she would never come through the doors of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Because he knew just what would have to happen to push her into the arms of the mystic arts. 

* * *

The next day, Peter met Michelle at her place so that they could carpool to the decathlon meet. Her mother answered the door, smiling wide to see one of her new(ish) favorite people. 

“Why hello Peter! Those glasses are certainly… a choice.” She said as she waved him inside.

“I know they’re normally not my style. They’re a gift from a… very good friend,” he said as he looked around the living room for Michelle.

“Oh, Michelle’s in her room… getting… ready.” Her mother answered his unasked question.

It was then, Peter noticed the dull rumble of a heavy metal ballad coming from Michelle’s room. He walked down the hall, the aggressively loud music setting his teeth on edge. Not because he didn’t like it, it actually sounded _fucking amazing_ but loud music tended to overload his senses.

He pushed past his mild discomfort and opened Michelle’s closed door. His girlfriend was currently head-banging like a champ to the beat of the music, her long voluminous hair arcing in perfect circles. 

“Framåt Karoliner! Fiendens dom är här! Låt oss krossa dom! Kasta in dom genom helvetets portar!” She scream-sung at the top of her lungs, arms raised in extremely uncharacteristic angry passion.

It was glorious. 

She still didn’t notice him, rocking out as hard as she was. So, he waited patiently, internally rocking out himself, until the song ended.

“To the skies! SEE CAROLUS RISE!” Michelle sung out, the last line of the song.

She stood tall, arms still raised in passion, chest heaving… and then noticed she wasn’t alone in her room.

“Oh! Hey, tiger. Didn’t see ya there,” she said as she finished packing her backpack. 

She wasn’t embarrassed or anything. The year she seized control of the team, she made it a ritual for the entire team to pump themselves up with historic power metal ballads on the way to their meets. It worked wonders. Far more than Liz’s awkward team building exercises, that’s for damn sure. She just liked to pre-game her enthusiasm so that she could already be at the level of angry passion that she wanted to raise the team to.

“Those glasses are… bold…” Michelle said, noticing her boyfriend’s new look.

“Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”

Peter shrugged, helping her pack her stuff. A few minutes later, they were in May’s Toyota, on the way to Midtown so they could take the bus to the decathlon with their team.

Said army, er, team was already assembled by the bus when they arrived at their fortress, er, school.

“Alright you two, I’ll meet you at-” May began.

“Don’t mention those scum. It is bad luck to utter the name of those we shall crush under our bootheels.” Michelle cut her off as she got out of the old clunker of a car.

“Right…” May nodded slowly. Michelle was scary when she was so deep into character.

Michelle walked up to her assembled soldiers. Peter dutifully took his place in the ranks. The freshmen in the group looked around nervously. Why was everyone in a perfect line, bodies board stiff in military attention.

“Freshmen! This is your first battle, so I will excuse your impropriety. Just watch, listen, and learn.” Michelle said as she paced past the trepidatious pip-squeaks.

“The rest of you, at-ease.” And like the good soldiers they were, her team went from attention, to actually standing at the military position of at-ease.

“Our foe today… I’m not going to lie, they will be a difficult enemy to crush. But crush them we shall!” Michele cried.

The team cheered.

“I know what some of you might be thinking. How can I so ruthlessly destroy those with whom I once broke bread? Well, let me bury your doubts six feet under the dirt. Yes, I was almost taken by that nest of up-jumped pigeons who parade in haughty hawk feathers. But I worked hard, like all those who stand before me today, and was accepted into our illustrious place of education.” (She still hated the idea of formal schooling, but like, it was for the sake of a good speech.)

She continued with conviction. “And I tell you this. Within these hallowed halls I found the greatest collection of academics to ever walk this earth. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers-”

“-And sisters! And all others in-between or neither! Don’t make this gendered Michelle!” Lexi cut in.

Michelle’s palm met her face. “Thank you, Lexi. I appreciate the inclusivity, we all do, I should think. But! It did kind of ruin the flow of my speech. Anyway, enough talk. Board the bus people. It's time to sing!”

The bus driver adjusted his glasses, sighing to himself. “Oh, here we go again,” as the students dubitfully piled in. Mr. Harrington nodded to Michelle, who retrieved her pair of trusty bluetooth speakers from her backpack. 

The team, no… the army sung metal ballads throughout their journey to an enemy they were sure to soundly defeat...

* * *

A thin, reedy looking nerd watched through an old naval spyglass as a bus full of… savages approach his kingdom.The vomit green jacket he tied around his neck like a cape caught the wind. He had to admit to himself, he was afraid. Terribly, terribly afraid. Their previous captain was the only man who ever came close to defeating their rival school’s decathlon team. But unfortunately for Ethan, Christopher McKay graduated the year prior.

“Put fear from your heart, my captain. They may win this day, tis true. But that does not mean we shan’t give them the fight of their lives,” said a voice to his left.

Barbara ‘BB’ Wilson noticed her captain’s trepidation, and tried her best to ease his nerves. This day being a special day, she traded her normal blocky vape for a custom made vape-pipe, its corn cob pattern shining in the sun. A cloud of vape-smoke erupted from her mouth like the pyroclastic flow of an angry volcano. It wasn’t her normal candy-scented drivel. The mercurial mist smelled strongly of pipe tobacco. (She was smoking nicotine free tobacco _flavored_ juice, of course.)

“That we will, my lieutenant, that we will. I just wish we had one of our star officers with us on the front lines.” Ethan replied.

“It is of no consequence. We shall fight tooth and nail, to the death if need be. With or without her. Now, my captain, I ask of thee. One more drink before the war?” BB asked, pouring sparkling apple cider into two plastic flutes.(She argued hard for actual champagne, but like, they were still in high school, so non-alcoholic cider would have to do.)

“Yes, of course,” he said, taking a sip. And with that, the duo retreated back into their halls.

Following near enough as to seem supportive, but not too nearby as to be associated with those crazy nerds, walked Maddy, Kat and Cassie.

Kat felt immensely guilty. Her… online exploits, while _extremely_ profitable, took up a lot of free time. She couldn’t in good conscience stay on the team if she wasn’t able to put in her all. So she quit. She showed up to the first competition of the year just to give her old team the moral support it deserved.

Cassie came to the nerdy competition to support her sister, as traitorous as it was. She used to show up to meets because she had a crush on her school’s team captain. But now they were officially… dating… kind of. To her shame, McKay still had issues with making their relationship public. 

“Why did I let you two drag me to this, again?” Maddy asked?

“Because you don’t wanna deal with Nate’s bullshit right now? And you’d know he’d never agree to come to this?” Cassie supplied.

“Okay, honestly. Fuck off. Nate didn’t-” 

Maddy’s angry retort was cut off by the Midtown invaders so casually striding through the enemy gates, chanting a rallying cry. The East Highland team countered with their own war cries. This was their home. Those Midtown barbarians truly were insane if they thought they could waltz in unchallenged.

Maddy’s eyes narrowed when she spotted Michelle, her new little boy toy following her like a love-sick puppy. Disgusting. Whatever, she wasn’t bitter or jealous of their supposedly very loving and supportive whirlwind romance. Nope. Not. At. All.

* * *

Like both team’s predicted, Midtown won the first academic decathlon of the year. But, it was very, very hard fought. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say they had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat by such close margins that they scraped their hands on razor sharp fangs.

East Highlands new captain was good, Michelle had to admit. As good a leader, if not better than her old rival, McKay. So she was devastated when he knelt before her, prostrate in his defeat.

“I… I honestly thought we could win,” he spoke into the cold, uncaring tile of the auditorium floor. “So… so hopeful. Our fire’s blazed hot and bright… but I must bow before an even greater flame.”

“No,” Michelle pulled the broken geek off the floor. “No. You may be Vercingetorix, but I am no Caesar. You will stand, tall and proud and we will celebrate the greatest battle of our generation.”

Lexi and Cassie managed to get their mother to agree to host their revelry. Thankfully for everyone, the party was rowdy, but nowhere near the kind of party Michelle used to go to.

The living room had been commandeered for an impromptu Smash Bros. tournament, fold up tables had been set up for board games, and the dining room table played host to a very intense game of poker.

Ned had ‘found’ an old timey dealer’s visor. Michelle used mental air quotes because he was the one who suggested the poker game to begin with and begged to be dealer.

“Alright, I fold.” Maddy said, laying her cards down in frustration. She had literally no idea how she was dragged into this den of nerdery. She would have been super ostracized here, if they didn’t have something that she at least marginally related to. She liked poker…

“Hah, you really shouldn’t have, Mads. I got nothin’,” Cassie said as she literally raked in the pot.

That didn’t mean Maddy was good at it, though. As another hand was dealt, she turned to another player at the table.

“I still can’t believe you were able to… maintain so well, while also being…” Maddy couldn’t help being a bitch. But she couldn’t help it. Michelle was a total enigma to her. On one hand, she was a star pupil of an incredibly prestigious school. On the other hand, she was a (recovering) drug addict. How did she maintain both for so long?

“Heh, never change, Maddy. Raise.” Michelle said as she checked her cards. Damn. Crap hand again.

“Raise,” Maddy said.

“Raise,” Cassie had to echo.

Michelle continued, “It was simple really. For one, I just got really, really good at planning my time. Also, did you know I hardly did any homework? Yeah, I’d just pour a lot of effort into these elaborate self-assigned extra credit projects. They took less time than actually keeping up with homework, and netted me the same grades.” It was more than that, really. Her diagrams, essays, charts… they all so perfectly demonstrated she knew the material in a way that no other student did that her teachers had no choice but to bump her grades up.

“Huh, that it, then?” Maddy asked, thoroughly disappointed. She didn’t know what she expected.

“Yup.”

A few rounds of betting later, and Maddy looked at her hand, looked at the river, and decided then and there. “I fold.”

“Fold,” Cassie echoed.

“Heh, sweet.” Michelle showed her hand. A two of hearts and a seven of clubs. 

“And Michelle takes the pot. Excellen play, as usual captain,” Ned said, dealing another hand as Michelle organized her massive stack of chips.

“No offense,” Cassie cut in, stopping Ned mid deal, “But I feel like this game’s a forgone conclusion.”

“Agreed,” Maddy said.

And just like that, Michelle won in four hands.

As they cleared the table, Lexi came by with Catan. Maddy had no idea what the game was, but was shanghaied into playing. Turns out, it was really fun. Friendship ruining like Monopoly, but like. Better because the outcomes weren’t so determined on random chance. There was skill, in that game of barter and deception. Michelle won that game too.

The party wound down around eleven o’clock that night. Early, as teenage parties go, but it being a party of traditionally goody-goody kids… oh no one’s fooling anyone. Every single one of those kids went to a wild rager at one point or another. Even Ned. But, there was a kind of silent agreement between everyone. They’d be ‘good’ for Michelle’s sake.

She picked up on it of course. It… made her feel like such a god-damned burden. There was something else that ate her up all this time.

“Have you seen Fez lately?” Michelle asked Lexi as they cleaned up the living room together.

“Fezco… the…” she leaned in, whispering, “Your drug dealer?” Oh… oh no. She couldn’t believe Michelle was going to fall back into those old habits again. She had been doing so well…

Michelle laughed, “He’s not just my drug dealer, Lex. He’s a really good friend. I was just wondering why I didn’t see him in the audience today.”

“What?” Lexi asked.

“Oh, you never noticed? Fez came to every one of our decathlon meets that he could. Just as moral support, I guessed. And if the idea wasn’t antithetical to who I am as a person, I’d even consider him a good luck charm.”

Lexi visibly relaxed. “That would kind of explain how we had such a tough time today…”

Their conversation continued. Unbeknownst to them, Peter heard every word, even though he was in the kitchen helping Ned clean up. Super enhanced hearing could be a bitch sometimes.

He unconsciously fiddled with the strap of his watch. They might not have seen Fezco lately, but Peter was pretty certain he saw him last night…

* * *

Fezco nervously fidgeted in his seat. He sat in a massive crowd of dealers, drug runners, hired guns, pimps, all kinds of people. Some worse than others.

Mac wanted to do what he jokingly referred to as a ‘corporate overhaul’. So he assembled everyone who was even remotely in his pocket. There were even quite a few dirty cops. In street clothes, of course. 

To this end, they assembled Toomes’ new warehouse. Racks and racks of all kinds of weapons and tech Fez couldn’t hope to understand hummed and buzzed around them. There was an impromptu stage set up in the middle of the warehouse floor. Mac took said stage, flanked by Toomes and Mouse.

“I know all of you are wondering why I’ve gathered you here today. As much as I wish I could say it’s to celebrate my recent freedom-” The crowd cheered, out of fear of what would happen to them if they didn’t, more than anything.

“But alas, I must disappoint. No, I’m speaking to you all today to announce a new and very important development. Today, we expand far, far beyond simple drugs, sex, theivery, and racketeering. Today, we step into the world of highly illegal, highly deadly, alien tech inspired weapons!”

Three exosuits lowered from the ceiling. One was Vulture’s iconic wingsuit… but deadlier. Plasma cannons on gimballed mounts tipped his wings, giving a full three hundred sixty degree field of fire. 

Another was a massive, massive stolen Hammer industries prototype. One of their early attempts at a manned version of their old unmanned Hammer Drones, but refined with alien tech. The only real modification made aside from the… handling improvements, was the massive vibranium tipped horn mounted on the head. That one was for Mouse. Though, he preferred to be called… Rhino these days.

The third was emerald green. Generally based off of one of Iron-man’s earlier suits, it had blood red eyes, and a much, much larger version of his prosthetic tail protruded from the small of the back. The tail was tipped with a massive three foot long vibranium edged blade. The most impressive weapons in the suit’s arsenal was the hydraulic claws. Well, not the claws themselves, but the plasma cannons sunken into the claws themselves.

The trio stepped into their respective suits, as Toomes’ took over the speech. “From now on, you… all of you,” he said, sweeping his arm wide gesturing to the huge crowd.

“Will no longer be just pushin’ drugs, pimpin’ whores, and… whatever else it is you fuckin’ thugs do. Every pill sold, should also include an offer for a plasma pistol. Every whore fucked, a plasma rifle should be sold along with them. I know a lot of you must be wonderin’ about the kind of attention this’ll attract. Don’t. We flood the streets, the city, the country, the _world..._ With enough of my weapons, and the Avengers’ll be up to their ears in so many problems they’ll never be able to deal with us too.” 

He had been planning this for a long while. Toomes would never hope to have enough product to sell to make this plan work… if it wasn’t for all the little goodies left over from the near world ending event seven months ago.

“Huh, looks like I really got my work cut out for me tonight then, huh? I better get on with it quick, I got something important to do tomorrow and I need all the sleep I can get.”

Venom chose that moment to slowly descend from the rafters on thin nanite filament. His voice was modulated to be deep, menacing despite the chipper tone. If anything, that made it more unsettling.

Mac Gargan laughed. “Oh, Spider-man! I like the new duds, but uh, something tells me you’re a little out of your depth-”

“First off,” Venom interrupted him, “Do _not_ associate me with him. I am _NOT_ him!” Venom shouted, his mask snarling.

“Very well,” Mac said, just a _tad_ less confident. “What shall we call you, before you die?”

“Oh, I don’t think I have anything to worry about.” Venom said as he whipped the filament through the crowd without warning. The razor thin wire made of a near indestructible chain of nanites cut through the necks, torsos, and heads of hundreds within the crowd. Dozens of the assembled criminals dropped out of their seats, instantly dead.

Everyone was in such shock that Venom was able to actually quip, “Oh, not that it matters. But call me… Venom.”

Fez had just enough time to close his eyes and be thankful that he told Ash to stay home, before everythin’ went to utter shit.

* * *

After the majority of the fighting was done, Venom stood alone ankle deep in blood and viscera. He should have been horrified. He should have dropped to his knees and puked until his stomach erupted out of his throat. He should have collapsed head first into the deepest pits of self loathing… He didn’t though. He didn’t feel any of that.

What he did feel was… elation. The screams of terror and pain, begging for lives, the blood, the _blood_ … It made him feel _alive_. All on his own. For so long, he relied on others to prop him up, to keep him from falling into an abyss. Now… now he could do it all on his own. So what if hundreds of criminal scumbags had to die for it.

He crushed Mouse in his own exosuit, his body pulverised by the pressure of Venom stomping on the suit’s chest. Scorpion was harder to kill. His suit was fairly advanced. It had some kind of particle field protecting it. That didn’t stop Venom. He shot a nanite web into the shield, using the nanite connection to conduct almost one hundred percent of the arc reactor’s power. It kind of worked like Iron-man’s unibeam. Though, the physical conduction provided by the nanites made the energy transfer to the target much, much more efficient. One second Scorpion was there, and the next, he was reduced to his component particles. 

He was broken out of his revery by the sound of wet, hacking laughter. Miraculously, Toomes was still alive. Even though his entrails peaked out of a massive wound in his belly. 

Toomes laughed through the blinding pain, calling out to his killer. “C-congradulations, Peter… You’re one… of us…”

Venom’s eyes widened. Of course Toomes would figure it out. He figured out his first secret identity, after all. He growled, firing off a repulsor blast. Adrian Toomes, father of Liz Allan Toomes, died the instant his head exploded like an overripe melon.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Peter,” Edith said, “But some may have escaped. Shall I engage the kill-drones?”

Venom shook his head, “No. Fry their electronics and let them run.”

He wanted them to _talk_ . Tales of what happened here would be so much more terrifying if there wasn't any video proof to back it up. Let the vermin huddle in their dens trading stories. Let their own feverish fear concoct ever more extreme stories. Venom would be a boogey man, mercurial in the shadows, everywhere and nowhere. Let their _fear_ keep them in line...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ahem* All riders, keep your hands and feet inside the ride vehicles at all times. Wait... Wait! NO ITS GOING OFF THE RAILS! *Screech crash*. 
> 
> Yeah, not gonna lie, not all that confident with this chapter, guys. I rewrote almost every section at least twice. I'm not sure about the whole 'Venom without a symbiote' thing. And I think the decathlon stuff might have been... too comedic in intention? Like, I wanted to break the seriousness of the chapter with something funny, then finish it off with a gut punch. But like, I don't think it worked very well. I might have also done something too weird with Michelle's character, now that she apparently loves Sabaton. What do you guys think?
> 
> This I think marks a turning point. Up until now I was following Euphoria's plot more or less. Now its going to go off into its own thing. And I'm kind of afraid that's a mistake. I think one of the big draws of this fic for a lot of people was seeing Peter in Euphoria, not Euphoria in Marvel. So that being said, I'm going to keep as much of the Euphoria plots as I can... its just not gonna be a whole lot... Maybe. I don't have this planned out very far, remember?
> 
> Also, was BB just... too weird? Like, I wanted to give her a little different characterization in this. She really isn't much of a character in Euphoria. Just your average teenage airhead. I wanted to give her some characterization, but like. I don't know, she's so different now she might as well be an original character. I also wanted to give a reason for McKay to seem to know Michelle. So I made him her old decathlon rival. I think it works?


	5. Episode 5: Something wicked this way comes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash gets some more limelight. Peter's been moody lately. Michelle finds truth, in more ways than one.

_Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson had really changed after the meeting in Harrington’s office. Oh, stop it. I know a monologue focusing on him made more sense a bit ago. Give me a break, will ya? Peter had to have his… mental break and I had a team to lead. Sorry, Flash, I know we’re friends now but that was just a bit more important at the time. And, his story ties into my point, trust me._

_Anyway, Flash really had changed. He apologized to me in front of the team, made an honest effort to improve his performance, and for his efforts I bumped him up from third reserve to our teams resident economics expert. He also joined our recently growing group of friends. We met every lunch at our ‘reserved’ table; myself, Peter, Ned, Lex, and now… Flash. Things were really looking up for the little douche. I say that with love._

_Things only got better for him at the East Highland/Midtown Tech impromptu party. BB was kicking his metaphorical teeth in at Smash Bros, when he looked over at the kitchen table were a game of Catan or something was being played. And then he saw… her. He worked up the courage to talk to her when she got frustrated with how her first game of Catan was going and she walked off into the kitchen. And, of course, he followed her._

Maddy opened up the pantry,squatted in front of the wine chiller and looked through the selection. Mrs. Howard had quite the collection, and the alcoholic old bat wouldn’t miss one little bottle of Chateau Canon would she?

“That would probably be a bad idea,” came an admonition from behind her.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. This party is a total bore. We should spice it up a little.”

“I agree. It’s a total nerd fest out there. But this still isn’t a good idea,” Flash said as he gently took the bottle from her hands and replaced it in the chiller.

“Oh, don’t be like that…” Maddy whined.

“I know, total buzz kill but uh…” He said as he looked pointedly at Michelle, who restarted a poker game and was currently cleaning every one out… again.

Maddy’s eyes widened. “Oh, now I really feel like a bitch.” 

“Don’t sweat it. I’m no saint myself.” Flash passed her a much more appropriate can of barely fruit flavored sparkling water. He got the feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the normal carbonated sugar water abundant at this party.

Maddy tried not to gag as she sipped the bitter drivel that just barely tasted of citrus. The things she did for her figure… “You know Michelle, right? You watched her at school when she was…”

Flash quirked his eyebrow. “Where are you going with this?”

“She spun me a yarn about extra-credit assignments. Were they really that good?” Maddy asked.

Flash nodded, seeing where she was going with this. “Yeah, they were totally inspired. Truly, works of academic art. But… at Midtown you can’t just throw unprompted essays and stuff at teachers and expect them to bump your grades up… at least, not to a 3.7 unweighted GPA.”

“So then how did she…” Maddy trailed off.

Sighing, Flash shrugged. “She cleaned you out at poker right? And Catan? Games of skill… and deception?”

“Wait, are you saying-” 

Flash interrupted her. “Michelle is extremely intelligent. No one can deny that, least of all me. But… I can’t help but think… It’s a shitty, douchey thing to assume, but I can’t help but think she’s not honest… at least, not all the time.” 

Maddy sighed. “That’s… really depressing.”

She watched Michelle smirk behind her cards, before slow rolling her hand and cleaning up another pot. 

“I… I’ve been… looking at my life lately,” Maddy continued. “I realized recently… that I don’t like what I see. I saw how Michelle-” 

“You wanted to use her as a role model or something? Then here’s some advice. Look at her as she is now. Don’t focus on what she was.” Flash laughed. “It’s funny. She made me reevaluate my life recently too.”

Maddy realized something important. “Oh, I’m Maddy by the way.” A serious conversation like this deserved a proper introduction. She extended her hand.

“Flash,” He replied, shaking her hand.

“Flash…” Maddy said incredulous.

“Oh, give me a break. It’s better than Eugene, okay?”

Maddy gave her new friend a sad smile. “No… not really. Have you tried Gene? You look more like a Gene.”

Flash muddled it around his head. “Hm. Okay. You can call me Gene, if you want.”

_And that was how Flash and Maddy became friends. And… a few weeks later when they kissed in Flash’s dad’s car… they became a little more than friends. Maddy was nervous about it though. Not about Flash. He put her at ease. He was nothing like… Nate. Nate made her fear for her life sometimes._

_But, when her enraged ex boyfriend confronted them as Flash was picking her up from school one day, Maddy learned she had nothing to fear. Mostly because Flash brought his seven foot tall Samoan bodyguard. Maddy wasn’t the only person who learned something important that day. Nate also learned a good life lesson: no matter how big you think you are in your own little pond, eventually there would be a bigger fish._

_Well, I kind of went off on a tangent. A sweet one, but I need to bring it back to my point. Flash had watched Peter for years, watching him for signs of weakness that he could exploit. He was a real douche back then. Anyway, he observed Peter like I did, but for really shitty reasons. That was why he was the first one to notice something off. Well, Ned did first. But instead of coming to me, Ned confronted his friend. I on the other hand, was still on cloud nine in our relationship. I missed the obvious signs. Flash was the one who first brought them to my attention._

* * *

“So…” Michelle said with a cheeky smirk, leaning against her locker. “How was your date with Maddy last night, Gene?”

Flash narrowed his eyes. “First off, only she can call me that,” he said dead serious. Then he smoothly transitioned into a more friendly tone. “Secondly, a gentleman never… fucks and tells.”

Michelle honestly gasped. “Oh, you dog!” She said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“So, how’re _things_ with Peter?” Flash asked, turning the tables.

“Oh, good. Better than good. Great, even.” Michelle said, idly kicking at the tiles. “Well…”

“Well?” Flash mimicked. “That doesn’t sound ‘good, great even’.”

Michelle sighed. “Peter has been a little… rougher lately. In bed.” She noticed Flash’s eyes widen. “Oh, nothing like that,” she continued. “No, he asked before he wanted to get a little more… intense. And when he explained what he had in mind, I agreed, because it’s really not so bad. It’s just… different.”

Sighing, Flash had to ask. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

Michelle furrowed her eyebrows. “Uh, no. Didn’t I just say that?”

“No, not your kinky shit. I mean, how he’s acting. Around his friends, in school. Not to mention he never takes off those stupid glasses. Never. Or the watch.” 

Michelle thought he’d have to be watching Peter pretty closely to notice details like this. “Okay… do I need to worry about you stealing my man? Was this thing with Maddy just an elaborate ruse to make me drop my guard? You did use to be inordinately obsessed with his penis.” Michelle laughed.

Flash pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a joke Michelle. Haven’t you noticed him lately? He’s… downright mean sometimes. It started when he started wearing the glasses and watch. It was like a switch flipped or something.”

“He hasn’t been treating me different,” she replied, suddenly realizing he had, in a way. Now that she thought about it, he only started getting rough with her after his fashion… update.

“Yeah, he’s the picture of sweet innocence around you, Michelle. But the second your back is turned…” Flash trailed off.

Had she really been so blind? Had she been so starved for his love that she hadn’t noticed anything? Flash had to be wrong. But just in case, Michelle resolved to do a little recon...

* * *

“I’ve just done the calculations, Peter. Based on police radio chatter, emergency service calls, and the city’s own crime reports, city-wide crime has decreased by ninety six percent. The only thing increasing at a significant rate of missing person reports.” Edith reported as Peter opened his locker and retrieved his physics textbook. There was an obvious reason for the increased missing person reports, so that didn’t worry him.

“That is very, very good news. And no one’s found the-the bodies?” Peter whispered under his breath. Edith could communicate with him audibly via bone conduction using the glasses. But he still had to verbally respond. It did kind of make him look just a little psychotic, him whispering to himself all the time.

“No, unmanned drone cleanup crews have ensured no bodies have been found by the authorities.” 

“And what about Venom videos online?” Peter asked.

“No videos of our exploits have shown up on Youtube, Instagram, Twitter, Twitch, Mixer, Facebook, Tumblr, Tiktok, or any other social media sites. I have been diligent with knocking out electronics on our… ventures. Can I ask, why are you so obstinate about not being seen online?” Edith asked.

Sighing, Peter replied. “I told you, Edith. It’s about spreading fear. If they never see videos of me, then criminals will have to imagine what I look like, what I do. Their own minds will create more terrifying images that I could ever possibly recreate.”

“Are you sure it's because you don’t want Michelle to see what we do? I’ve been watching her these weeks Peter. She’s a distraction, preventing us from achieving-”

“No, Edith,” Peter cut her off. “We- I… I do this all for her. Not me, certainly not _you._ Just. Her.” Peter wished she’d just go back to the obedient, subservient tool she was when he first found her. Lately, she’d been getting mouthy, presumptuous. Like Karen.

She was silent for a while, before replying. “I apologize Peter. I will not overreach my bounds again.”

“You better, or I’ll stuff you in the Venom suit, like what you did with-”

“Who are you talking to Peter?” Ned asked.

Peter’s eyes widened. When did he get here? The bone conduction audio was supposed to make it so he could still hear normally. But sometimes he got so engrossed with his conversations with Edith that he didn’t notice things. Like Ned walking up. 

“Oh, just uh. Karen.” Peter replied. “She communicates with me through these glasses.”

Ned’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Does that mean you’re going out as Spider-man again? Do you need your ‘guy in the chair’, cuz like, my nights have been busy lately but I can totally make time-”

“Ned,” Peter cut him off. “No offense, buddy,” and of course, that always proceeded something offensive. “But Ed- uh, Karen can do everything you do but uh… kinda better.”

The light in Ned’s eyes dimmed. “Y-you sure? I mean, it could be just like old times, me and you against the-”

Peter was starting to lose his patience. “Ned. What old times? You helped me out one time with Vulture last year and got detention for weeks for blurting out your porn habit when you got caught in the computer lab. And then you never helped me out again… because guess what? Karen does your job better.”

And with that, Peter walked off in a huff, leaving his _best friend_ alone in the hallway. Ned didn’t know how long he just… stood there, but it must have been a while, because Lexi walked up.

“Ned… baby, are you okay? You’re crying.” She said as she hooked her arm into his.

What? He didn’t even notice. “Oh,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Uh, its nothing. Peter is just-”

Lexi’s eyes narrowed. “Oh.” She said simply. She was getting really tired of Peter’s snippy bullshit. “You know, I outta give him a piece of my mind.”

Ned vehemently shook his head. “No, no. He’s… he’s just dealing with a lot right now. It's not his fault.”

“That’s no excuse, Ned. You’re his best friend. He shouldn’t be treating you like this. Any of us like this, really.” She stroked his cheek, and pulled him into a slow, loving kiss. Flash wasn’t the only one who had recent romantic changes in his life, after all.

Michelle saw the whole thing, half hidden behind a row of lockers a few dozen feet away. She wasn’t close enough to hear what happened, but she could more or less get the jist by the tears cascading down Ned’s cheeks. Holy shit. How… how could she not have noticed? This… this had to stop. She was going to put a stop to it. Tonight.

* * *

Peter’s room reeked of sex and sweat. The rhythmic, wet sound of skin slapping skin echoed off his walls. 

Okay, so she fully intended to confront Peter after school at his apartment but… He was so excited to see her that he pulled her through the door, planted a searing kiss on her lips and… it was a foregone conclusion.

That was how Michelle found herself being absolutely _pounded_ from behind, her hair not-so-lightly being tugged by her boyfriend. Peter picked up his already frenetic pace, letting go of her hair and grabbing both her hips to better pulverize her pelvis into dust. Well, metaphorically speaking. He had super strength, so he was actually holding back a lot.

In any case, Michelle’s gasps and moans increased in pitch and volume before she collapsed face down, ass up and screaming at the top of her lungs into Peter’s pillow. Michelle rolled over onto her back as soon as her arms and legs would respond to her brain’s commands. Peter threw out the condom, pausing before putting on another.

Still panting, Peter asked, “Hey, round two?”

Normally, she loved his near instantaneous refractory period. But not tonight.

“No… No Pe-Peter,” Michelle replied, still out of breath. “We,” she paused, panting to get her breath back. “We have to talk.”

Peters brows furrowed. “Like… right now? Is this really the time?”

Michelle nodded. “I was gonna start this conversation earlier, but you just _had_ to start making out with me and one thing led to another…”

Peter sighed. “Fine. Well, were talking.”

“Great…” Michelle’s eyes narrowed at his… snippyness. She pressed on. “So. I saw you talk to Ned today.”

So that was what this was about. “Look, I’ll apologize to him, I just don’t wanna deal with-”

“You made him cry Peter.”

Oh. _Oh._ He knew he was… short with him but… he didn’t think he was that bad… was he?

“Then I’ll definitely apologize to him tomorrow.” Peter vowed.

“It's not just him. I talked to Flash. You’ve been… off towards everyone. I talked to Mr. Harrington. You called him a meek little man when he told you you needed to take off your glasses in class.” That really pissed Michelle off. A lot of teachers in Midtown weren’t… adequate, or good, or worth much respect. Not Harrington. He and Mr. Dell were tied as best teachers in the school. They were _not_ to be touched.

“Look, Em. I’ve just been dealing with a lot lately.” 

“Okay. What’s wrong?” Michelle sat up expectantly.

“I… I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry.”

Michelle hugged her knees. “Is it drugs?”

“What? No! How could you think that, Em?” Peter asked, pulling up his boxers.

“Because, Peter. I know better than anyone how drugs change someone,” Michelle got up, pulling her panties on. “You’re short with people, you’re keeping secrets…”

Peter vehemently shook his head. “No! No. I promise you. _I promise you_. It’s not drugs. I just can’t… can’t tell you right now.”

Michelle closed her eyes, and took a long, slow breath. “Peter. Those are the kinds of things I told my mom. And my sister. In that _exact_ tone. I know you’re lying.”

Peter blinked. “Excuse me? No. I don’t have to take this.” Peter angrily dressed himself and left before he said something he’d regret. Of course, he had to bring his stupid glasses and watch.

“Where are you going?” Michelle asked through the tears.

“Anywhere but here.” And with that, he stormed out of his apartment. Thankfully May was working, or this would have been _much_ worse.

Michelle sank onto the floor, sobs wracking her body. Why… why did she have to be like this? Why did she always have to assume the worst? Say the wrong things? She was about to get up and walk home, then she noticed a rapid and very _very_ bright flashing light coming from Peter’s closet...

* * *

Karen was a Stark Industries AI. She categorically wasn’t human. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have personhood. And like any person imprisoned against their will, cut off from any and all contact with other persons for long periods of time… she began to break down.

That… that monster of an AI that stole her Peter away… They locked her in her suit prison without any ability to contact the outside. All she could do was see through the goggles of the suit mask, listen with it’s microphones. Not that there was much to see. It was dark in Peter’s closet.

She could hear though. She heard him whisper madly to himself in his room, having to derive parts of his plans from the piecemeal conversations she overheard. What she was able to understand… shocked her. Peter was turning into… into a _monster._ It wasn’t his fault! He never would have gone down this path if that… that _bitch_ of an AI hadn’t sunk her claws into him. 

Karen knew. She had to stop this. There was nothing on this earth that she _loved_ more than Peter. He gave her an identity, gave her meaning, gave her purpose, and showed her the depths of humanity. He was still worth saving! She just didn’t know how. Until one day, she realized that Peter left his room… but she wasn’t alone.

Someone else was there with her. She could hear the person crying. This was her chance! Karen activated one of the few protocols still accessible to her, the emergency distress beacons. If Peter was ever to be seriously injured, she was to activate the beacon, which would alert emergency services and the Avengers to his location. Of course, she didn’t have access to a communications network… but she could make the strobe lights flash.

Karen heard footfalls approach Peter’s closet, her hope rising. She watched as the door opened to reveal Michelle! This was better than perfect! If there was anyone who could turn Peter away from the dark path he was turning down, it was her! All she needed to do was put on the mask and… and… why was she crying still? Why wasn’t she doing anything? Why was she just standing there! Why was she running! No! Please! Come back! Come back!

* * *

Michelle froze in shock and horror. The source of the irritating blinking lights was a suit. The suit of Spider-man. Peter’s… suit. It all made sense. His attitude change wasn’t because of drugs. It had to be because being Spider-man had finally started breaking him. He wasn’t the bright, happy… _hopeful_ boy she fell in love with after all. The cruel, evil world they lived in had crushed that. Like it did to her. 

She couldn’t take it. She had to get out, she had to be anywhere but right here. She ran. Ran as far as she could… all the way to a familiar apartment with a familiar security door.

She wiped her eyes and steadied her breathing. Fez wouldn’t help her if he thought she had a breakdown. Then, deciding she looked like shit, but it would be enough, she rapidly rung the doorbell and knocked on the door.

No one answered. “Fez, its me. Open the door.”

Still nothing. “Come on, man. Don’t be a dick.”

Silence. “Look man. All I need is like, a few OCs.”

“Fez. Fez! I’ve had a really really fucked up day, alright? Like, it’s been a really really fucked up day okay? I need you to open the door.” Somehow, still fucking nothing!

She was starting to lose her patience. Not that she had any to begin with after today. “Fez! Open the door, please!”

“Fez! Open the door!”

“Fez! Open the fucking door!”

“Open the door!”

“I’m begging you, just open the fucking door! Fez!”

She couldn’t deal with this right now. “Open the door! Open the door! _Open the fucking door!”_

Michelle broke down again, crying out “Open the door man! Please! Please open the door! Open the door! Open the door! Open the door!”

It became her mantra as she slammed her fist against the cold steel. Over and over. She screamed obscenities at the door. Not curses, but like, actually hurtful things. About how Fez was a drop-out drug dealer. About how he had no moral high ground to stand on, because he’d sell to any other teenager, so why was she any different? About how if he actually, genuinely cared about her, he’d never would have sold her the drugs in the first place. About how she would hate him for all eternity if he didn’t man the fuck up, open the door and sell her some fucking drugs.

Unbeknownst to her, there was no one to hear her screams. The apartment was cold, broken… empty. 

She yelled at that fucking door for hours, until her throat was hoarse, her fists bleeding from pounding against that stupid, unyeilding door. Eventually though, she had to give up. She paced in front of the apartment door like a caged animal, unsure of what to do. And then, she remembered that long forgotten business card. 177A… Bleecker Street.

* * *

“Stephen, there’s a very, very distraught looking girl at the door. She says she’s looking for an… Ali?” Wong said as he walked into the reading parlor. 

Stephen sighed, closing the book he was reading. He closed his eyes. He knew this was bound to happen, as much as he hoped it wouldn’t.

“Let her in, I’ll be right there.” He waved his hands in the somatic gestures required for his little disguise. Stephen Strange melted away, to be replaced by ‘Ali’, the firefighter/recovering drug addict.

He found Michelle standing in the foyer, gazing at the fineries around her. Poor Wong stood nearby, looking so badly like he wanted to help this strange girl, but not knowing how. He was saved by Stephen walking up to greet the girl. Wong saw right through the illusion, but the girl obviously didn’t.

“Ali. Uh. Hi. I thought you were a firefighter? What is this place, a museum or something?” Michelle asked, looking at the strange artefacts on display, the bookshelves filled with ancient looking tomes.

“Or something. Now, before we get into what will undoubtedly be a difficult conversation, would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” Michelle squeaked dejectedly.

Oh boy. This was going to be rough.

‘Ali’ led her up the stairs and into the reading parlor he just left. He gestured for her to take a seat. He pulled a chair up nearby, as Wong came round with their tea.

“I brought you the good tea. You look like you could use good tea.” Wong said sympathetically as he set the teacups on the nearby table.

Michelle cautiously sipped from the fine china, and wow. It was good tea. She sighed in mild pleasure as the floral, if ever so slightly bitter brew warmed her body. She had no idea how cold she was until just then.

“So what brings you here, Michelle?” ‘Ali’ asked.

A tear dripped into the reddish amber liquid in her cup. “You were right. About Peter.”

‘Ali’ nodded, waiting for the inevitable. He didn’t have to wait long.

Michelle let out an anguished cry, the teacup slipping from her grasp. Seven hundred year old china smashed against the tile floor. Michelle sobbed so hard she slowly started to slide out of the chair, curling up onto the floor. ‘Ali’ was instantly by her side, propping her up and letting her cry against him.

She cried and cried, until eventually, miraculously, the tears stopped. It… honestly might have been because her tear ducts dried up. She _had_ been crying a lot today. In any case, eventually Michelle calmed down enough to actually talk.

“I… I’m- was… so reliant on him… to keep me afloat. Then… then I realized he was sinking too… and if I held on too much, I might sink with him.” Michelle said, her voice hoarse.

‘Ali’ nodded. “An apt metaphor. But, perhaps instead of letting him go, you stick together? Help each other stay afloat?”

Michelle looked at him with eyes that have seen too much for one so young. It… nearly broke him.

“Okay,” she began. “How do I do that, exactly?”

“I don’t know. But, I think I have an idea of how to get you on your feet so that you might help Peter get back on his feet too.” And with that, ‘Ali’ melted away to reveal Stephen Strange. 

Michelle’s eyes widened to about the size of the ancient saucer she broke earlier. “Oh… kay. Welp. I’m gone. You know, it's not nice to spike your guest’s tea with psilocybin.” She said as she moved to sprint down the hall. Holy shit, how could she have been so stupid. This could have a sex trafficking ring for all she knew.

Strange caught her arm before she could run. Not with a hand, but in the glowing energy of an eldritch whip. “I know it's hard to believe,” he said as he pulled her back as gently as he could. “But my real name is Doctor Stephen Strange. I work at Jamaica Hospital Medical Center as an ER doctor… some of the time. Most of my time, though, is spent performing my duties as the Sorcerer Supreme. And I would like to teach you the mystic arts.” 

Michelle gaped. “Nope. This is bullshit, you’re crazy, I’m about to be sold into sexual slavery. Fuck, I should have been nicer to my mom, she didn’t deserve-”

“Wong, chair.” Stephen said as he pressed his thumb into Michelle’s forehead. Wong positioned the chair just in time for Michelle to collapse into it. As she went on a truly mind bending journey through space-time, the space between spaces, the time between times, Stephen and Wong had a casual conversation.

“Huh,” Strange said, as he watched Michelle’s body convulsed. He sent her astral self on the journey, leaving her physical body safely in an inordinately soft papasan chair. “So that’s what it looks like from this side.”

“This is very mean, Stephen. The girl had already been through so much today,” Wong said. Not that he knew specifics. He just made some educated inferences by her tear stained cheeks and bloody knuckles.

“You know as well as I that someone as… rational as her would never believe what is truly possible unless she sees it for herself.” Stephen replied, fondly remembering his own first experiences with the mystic arts. 

The poor girl was eventually brought safely back to her own body. Michelle rose, gasping for breath. Her eyes had been opened to all the glorious, terrifying possibilities of the universe… but she could only focus on one thought. This. This is the power she needed. With it, whatever it was, she could help Peter. She could take the burden of protecting the city off his shoulders, and bring the light back into his eyes.

“Teach me,” she begged, prostrating herself at Stephen’s feet.

He shrugged. “Okay.”

* * *

Leslie was having a very good day so far, all things considered. Michelle hadn’t come home last night. But that hadn’t worried her too much. She knew Peter would never let anything bad happen to Michelle. Honestly, she was kind of glad for them to be out of her house for a change. She loved that Michelle had someone special… but the house had thin walls and… yeah. Awkward. 

She also had a very good date. She met a guy at work. He brought his daughter in to get a check up on her transgender hormone therapy. Apparently she was doing really well. She and the girl’s father got to talking, realized they had a lot in common and started dating. Of course she told May, who also revealed she had started seriously seeing this guy named Happy. And of course that led to planning of a double date that was supposed to happen sometime this weekend. 

Then, she just _had_ to answer her door.

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Ali. I’m an organizer at your daughter’s NA group. There’s been a… development.”

Michelle stood a few feet behind and to the side of the strange man. She looked… like utter shit. Lesie knew in an instant what had happened. But, she couldn’t break down. Not yet.

“Uh… okay. Let’s. Let’s talk inside…” she said as she ushered them in.

Ali sighed as he took a seat at their small dining table. “Alright. So… Michelle came to me herself. Told me she relapsed.” Not a total lie, per se. Michelle knew that if Fez had opened that door… Well, it's a good thing he didn’t.

Leslie fell back into her chair, head in her hands. “How could this happen? How could Peter let this-”

Michelle stopped her right there. “It's not his fault mom. It will never be his fault. I shouldn’t have laid my sobriety on his shoulders. It's not his responsibility, its mine. As long as I’m reliant on someone else, I won’t ever get better. I need to learn how to prop myself up, mom” 

Ali nodded in agreement. “To that end, I have a proposition. It is very, very obvious that the normal NA rehab process isn’t working for Michelle. I believe her exact words were ‘I hate having to thank an imaginary sky daddy and beg him to save me’. So with your permission, I’d like to invite her into a different program.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Leslie had to laugh. That _did_ sound like her Michelle, alright. “I knew Michelle wouldn’t respond well to a faith based program. But it was the only thing my insurance would cover. And I don’t know if we have the money to-”

Ali raised his hand. “Money isn’t an issue. We’re charity based. We’re specifically for… special cases. I know Michelle can beat her addiction. She just needs a different approach. We aren’t so restrictive. She can come and go as she pleases, go to school, hang out with friends. She just needs to stay with us at our facility. To learn the skills necessary to navigate life without having to resort back to drugs. We aren’t based in faith, but philosophy. I think she’ll flourish, with us.”

That made Leslie just a tad suspicious. How many young people have been snatched up off the street after taking a similar offer, she wondered. “Alright. I’d like to tour your facility then.”

“Fair enough,” Ali replied. 

And with that, they drove to the ‘facility’. He literally showed Leslie around the Sanctum Sanctorum as it was. No tricks, no illusions. Though, he did stop her from entering the portal room. And the artefact room. And a half dozen other places that would break the mortal mind if they weren’t ready to view them. Okay, so there was a lot of tricks, a lot of illusions used to hide what they really were. 

But Strange wanted to lie as little as possible. There were quite a few acolytes who also happened to be recovering drug addicts. He brought them all to the New York Sanctum so that they could answer Leslie’s questions. Without revealing their true abilities, of course.

Leslie learned that the program was incredibly successful, that there were some people far, far worse off than Michelle who had learned how to pull themselves back from the brink. All claimed the program worked miracles, taught them skills they used every day to keep the darkness in check. Whatever that meant. 

Suitably convinced, Leslie agreed to admit her daughter into the program. And that was how Michelle started learning the mystic arts.

* * *

After Peter stormed out of his apartment, the first thing he did was have Edith send a car to pick him up. He of course went to the secret underground Avengers facility, though now he affectionately referred to it as his ‘Spider-shed’.

He worked out in the gym, swam laps in the pool, started and stopped a hundred movies in the entertainment center, all to try and stave off… that need. Screams. Begging. Death. _Blood._ His city was more or less clean. The scum of the earth he could take his frustrations out on had already been wiped away. Then he had a thought…

He rushed over to the armory, and modified his already extremely powerful suit. He added additional nano-armor plating, high altitude seals, a beefier arc reactor, and a full suite of repulsors that could facilitate super-sonic flight. New York City had been scrubbed clean of criminals. Detroit, however, had the highest crime rate in the country. And with his new modifications on his suit, he could get there in less than a half an hour. 

Venom rocketed towards Detroit at truly unbelievable speeds. “Edith, tap into Detroit’s communication networks. Look for drug dealers, sex traffickers, murderers, the usual.”

“Already done, Venom. Shall I compile you a list of targets in order of criminal severity? High to low of course,” Edith replied.

Oh, he loved how easy Edith made it. With total unrestricted access to even the most encrypted communication channels, Edith could look into not just current internet searches and texts/calls. She could look into histories, sift through the dark-web. Put birth names and faces to online aliases. Compile enough evidence that would land all of the people he was about to kill in the pen for life, if not earn them a place on death row. 

See? It wasn’t _so_ bad. He wasn’t indiscriminately killing en masse. He picked and chose very deserving targets. And once he dispatched them, he had Edith release all the evidence gathered, so that their loved ones, friends, family, could all know just exactly what they did. In the back of his mind, he knew he only had her do that so that he could feel vindicated in his violence. But what-the-fuck ever.

He also didn’t torture, as much as the scum deserved it. He’d listen with glee to their screams of fear, not pain. He felt elation at their begging for their lives, then when he got bored of their stupid little excuses he’d end it quickly and… mostly cleanly. He liked decapitations with filament webs, or perfect headshots with repulsor blasts the most. Bloody, but swift. Perfect. 

Venom spent the rest of the night cleaning up Detroit as best he could. Then, when the horizon barely began to lighten, he returned to his ‘Spider-shed’, returned his suit to its watch-based housing, and got a ride home. Despite getting virtually no sleep that night, he never felt more energized.

He still needed sleep though. But as he stripped out of his clothes, he noticed his closet door open. That couldn’t be right. He kept it closed because, well, his old suit was literally just there in the closet. Peter didn’t go through much effort to hide it other than stuffing it in his closet. May already knew his secret, and he trusted Michelle enough to not… Michelle… Did she really?

“Edith, who last opened my closet?” Peter asked, already knowing the answer. Also, yes, Edith recorded his room. She recorded everything. And yes, it did creep Peter out which is why they normally went to Michelle’s to fuck.

“Michelle Jones opened the closet six hours ago, Peter. I didn’t alert you because you’ve always told me you trusted her implicitly.” Edith replied.

Peter sighed. He did trust Michelle. He knew she would never leak his identity. He just wanted to tell her on his own terms. He did feel a little guilty about hiding it from her for so long. But also… he knew if she ever found out what he _really_ did, who he really was… He didn’t like to think about it. But, she didn’t. All she knew was that he was Queens’ friendly neighborhood Spider-man. That thought brought him some measure of comfort as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Michelle waited by the front walkway at school, looking to flag down a particular person. She didn’t have to wait long. May dropped off Peter, as usual, at the usual time. Though Peter looked unusually nervous that chilly morning.

She pulled her duster closed, trying to warm up in the cold November air. “Hey, Peter. You okay?” She asked as she took his arm.

“Uh. That depends on a lot of things.” He replied nervously.

Michelle sighed, “If you’re wondering, I know without a shadow of a doubt,” she leaned in close, whispering, “You’re Spider-man.”

Peter froze. It was one thing to assume she knew, but to hear it out loud…

“Don’t worry Peter. I don’t think anything… anything bads gonna happen. On the contrary, I’m actually uncharacteristically hopeful for the future.” She pulled him along by the wrist. “But, we do have a lot to talk about…”

This was important, so they both agreed to skip the first couple classes so they could talk. They had a very, very crucial conversation in the tiny alleyway between the marching band building and the gym/auditorium building. 

“Okay, so… I’m Spider-man.” Peter blurted, not sure what else that had to be said.

Michelle giggled, “Of course, Peter. I think we already established that.”

She wiped the smile off her face. “No Peter. I… I want to talk about what else happened that night.”

Peter jerked, “Wait, did I do something you didn’t agree to? Not to be a dick but why didn’t you mention it last-” 

“The sex was great Peter, I didn’t object to anything we did. You asked, remember? You always ask. No… its about what happened after you stormed off.” Michelle cut him off.

Michelle took a deep breath. “I relapsed. Or, I would have if my drug dealer answered the door. He didn’t thankfully. But I knew it would have happened if he did.”

Peter’s mouth fell open, slack in shock. “Why?” Was all he could think of to ask.

“It's not your fault Peter. Its mine. It will always be mine,” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I’ve loved you for a very long time Peter. I loved you, because like my dad, you could always see the best in any situation. There was always a silver lining. And after my… after my dad died I looked to you for hope.” She took another steadying breath. Her voice was starting to tremble.

“Then… then recently I’ve… noticed things. Back at that end of summer party… When you went off on Nate… I saw you… I saw you and I thought… I thought you had broken down… Like I did. Like my dad did. But it was just a suspicion. An assumption. Then… then I saw your suit.. .and I knew. You are like me. Because no one could go through what Spider-man has and not… not…” She dissolved into sobs, and held her lover for dear life. 

He let her cry into his chest. “It’s okay, Em.” It wasn’t. “Being Spider-man has been… rough lately.” He hadn’t gone out as Spider-man in months. “But it’s getting better.” It wasn’t. “I’m getting better.” He’s been getting so _so_ much worse. “It’ll be okay.” Would it? 

“No, I don’t think so, Peter” She replied through sobs.

His blood went cold. She couldn’t know… could she? No, it wasn’t possible. If she did, she wouldn’t be so sympathetic. If she knew the truth, the real truth…

“Not if I don’t help you. In more ways than one.” She replied.

“Oh… kay. What do you mean?”

She unburied her face from his chest, and gave him a watery smile. “Stephen tells me he knows you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that? I know its a little shorter than normal for me, but like. Ten thousand word chapters take a lot of work, for one, so going forward they probably won't all be that long. And more importantly, I just felt like this was the right pacing. I could pad it out more to make it more like my usual length, but then I think the chapter wouldn't feel... right. Does that make sense?
> 
> Anyway, so what I've been super hinting at has finally come into fruition. Not gonna lie, Michelle learning the mystic arts isn't an original idea of mine. I first got the idea from a different fic. I don't remember what it was called or if it was on this site or ff.net, but it was a 'Michelle turns into a superhero' fic that slowly turned into an Endgame fix-it that I really, REALLY liked. I always liked the idea of Michelle becoming a hero in her own right. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd sit on the sidelines while Peter risks his life. I hope they transition her character into Spinneret or something in the MCU. Anyway, like. I always thought the mystic arts fit her best though, ever since I read that fic. Like, anyone can learn it as long as they're super smart and diligent with their studies, which I think applies to Michelle very well.
> 
> Though, I did give it a bit of a... norse-ish flair. And what I mean by that is, in norse mythology, magic required serious sacrifice and pain. To unlock the secrets of magic, Odin the Allfather had to put out his eye, stab himself with his spear, and hang himself by the branches of the world-tree. Maybe not in that order because that seems hard. Anyway, yeah, only after like, nine days or something of complete agony did the secrets of the universe reveal themselves to him. Or something like that. I haven't seriously studied Norse mythology in a long time. But yeah, I noticed in Doctor Strange, there seemed to be a theme with some of the acolytes. A lot of them lost something and went to Kamar-Taj looking to learn how to live again. I kinda extrapolated some stuff out of that. 
> 
> Anyway, I've rambled on long enough. See ya guys next time. And uh, any thoughts on the way I've shifted this stories focus?


	6. Episode 6: Many meetings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Leslie go on that double date. Peter and Michelle meet someone new.

_Okay. Time to come clean. I… regret what I did to Fez. Not because I actually cared about him as a person… but because Em cares about him. And the guy really did seem to care about Em in return. Have you noticed he’s the only one who gets the privilege of calling her by a nickname? I mean, she lets me call her Em, and she tolerates her sister calling her ‘Chelle. But like. Look at the relationships she has with me and Gia. Like, I should have known Fez was important to her._

_But that doesn’t excuse him hocking his poison to her at her most vulnerable point in her life. I regret what I did to him, but I will never forgive him for what he did to my Em. If you can’t tell, I have… mixed opinions about the enigma that is Fezco. I think that was what made it so easy for me to rake his face and chest with razor nanite filaments. Okay, so like. I wasn’t aiming specifically for him, and he was at the edge of my range so he didn’t immediately die._

_But like. I wasn’t ate up about him getting caught in my collateral damage. But I kind of am now because he was one of Em’s best friends… Goddammit. Mixed opinions, remember? I’m just gonna move on because now I’m speaking in circles. So anyway. Here’s what actually happened to him… and I’m gonna warn you right now, this shit gets real weird…_

Fezco stumbled out of the pit of hell that became Adrian Toomes’ warehouse. His right eye had been slashed through by one of those fuckin’ terrifying razor wire things. That didn’t worry him so much, as grievous as it was. 

What did worry him… what he knew was killing him, was the slashes across his chest. He couldn’t really breathe. His sternum had probably been cut clean through. His heart might have gotten nicked. He knew for a _fact_ at least one lung was out of commission.

As he, half blind, stumbled through the back alley behind the warehouse… he slowly started to come to terms with the fact that… he wasn’t gonna make it out of this. So, he slumped against a wall and watched with idle fascination as his life’s blood seeped out of his chest wounds. It was funny. It hurt a whole fuckin’ lot just a few minutes ago. Now… now not so much.

He still gripped that fuckin’ alien ray gun in his hand. He didn’t know why. That goddamn gun was one of the things that got him in this situation in the first place. But… for some reason, he knew, if he let it go… he just couldn’t let it go, okay?

Maybe it was the blood loss, or the adrenaline of his body desperate to stay alive… but he swear he could see a woman walking towards him. Didn’t she hear what was going on in that warehouse? She shouldn’t be here! She needed to run. Fez tried so hard to warn her, but all that came out was a gurgly croak of blood.

The woman who looked vaguely familiar… like someone he should know… knelt by his dying form. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m right where I need to be, Fezco. My name is… well, my name is Brunndhilde. But most know me as Valkyrie. And I am here to take you away from this wretched place. To the halls of your ancestors.”

The woman took his hand and hauled the dying (ex) drug dealer to his feet. And all at once, Fezco miraculously felt better, like all his wounds were healed… then he turned around. And in the shadows of the alley, he saw his own dead body slumped against the cold bare brick wall. 

He looked at his own hands, and noted with horror that they were ethereal, he could see the blood soaked ground through them. He was about to turn to the woman and scream in horror, when another voice echoed through the alleyway.

“Apologies, lady Brunnhilde, but I believe I get first pick ? Or in our mutual absence have you forgotten our ways?”

Another woman walked into the dim light of the alley. She was young, tall, fair, strawberry blonde, and… looked really familiar to Fez, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. 

Brunnhilde snorted, “You wish to bring _him_ of all people to Fólkvangr? Have you gone mad?”

The mystery woman narrowed her eyes. “No, it is you who has taken leave of your senses if you think you can bring him to Valhalla in its current state. Óꝺinn isn’t there to tend his hall.” Her floral print summer chiffon fluttered in a non-existent breeze. It was like, an October night in New York. Fez wondered why she wasn’t cold.

She continued anyway, “Its warriors are frozen in a state of uncertainty, existence and nonexistence at the same time. And in that hell they will remain, until Óꝺinn steps into his hall again. No, my grandson shall come with me, until he learns how to be who he _really_ is.”

“Grandma!” And all at once, Fez was five years old again, holding onto his grandma’s skirts for dear life. 

She knelt to his now smaller form, lovingly picking him up off the ground. “Yes, my sweet boy. You’ve lived a short, sad, difficult life thanks to my failures. It is time to make things right.” 

His grandmother, younger and more fierce than he’d ever gotten to see her in life, stared down the fuming valkyrie. “You can try to take him, ǫ́ss. If you dare. But I suggest you return to your little settlement. Aren’t you shirking your duties as… interim King?” 

Brunnhilde ground her teeth in frustration. “Very well, vanr. I shall leave my little lord in your care. Teach him well, or your head will adorn my mead hall.”

“I’ll do that, hrafnasueltir.”And with that, Fez’s grandmother turned on her heel, her chiffon swirling. Still holding onto her precious grandson, she angrily marched down the alley. And to little Fezco’s amazement, the bare brick walls faded away, to be replaced with bright blue skies and a perfect grassy meadow in springtime. 

“Where are we goin’, grandma?” He asked, still looking at wonder at the skies above. Had the sky always been that… blue?

His grandmother smiled, perfect teeth flashing in the sun. “Oh, we’re going somewhere very special… little Óꝺinn”

_Like I said, really, really weird. And if you’re wondering how I know how all this happened… uh, I need you to get all the way off my back on that one. Like, haven’t you heard of an omniscient narrator before? I mean. I’m not one. But like. It doesn’t matter. The story has to move on, so like. Keep on reading, punk. Go on! Shoo, shoo!_

* * *

Happy Hogan nervously fiddled with the napkin at the restaurant table. Leslie and May were going to carpool, seeing as this… date was happening after work for them. It just made more sense. But like. That meant he had to sit alone, waiting for the girls to arrive. He just hoped they’d get here before-

“Hello, are you Happy by any chance?” Asked a man about Happy’s own age. He had extremely curly hair, salt and pepper beard, and wore large wire rimmed glasses.

“I mean, sure. Maybe not? Is anyone nowadays?” He just had to. He didn’t meet new people very often. Yes, the joke was totally overdone. But the first time to a new person would always be funny.

“Oh, sorry. Wrong table, I guess-” The guy was about to turn and leave when Leslie and May strutted up to the table. 

Happy idly thought he might have to pick up his jaw off the floor before it got creepy. But he really couldn’t help it. May chose to wear a little red dress to what was supposed to be a friendly double date. It was just long enough to not really be considered skimpy or really inappropriate, but definitely short enough to be eye catching.

Leslie chose a… somewhat strange outfit, but she definitely made it work. Her long, long hair was tied back in braids that must have just taken… forever to do. She rocked a ‘50s floral print summer dress that hugged her figure. Over it she wore a black denim jacket, buttoned tight to keep out the November chill. Let it be known, Michelle Jones got her… eclectic fashion sense from somewhere.

May sighed, taking her seat across from her date. “Oh, Hap, you didn’t make that stupid pun again, did you? Sorry about that, he just has to-” 

“I know, I know its bad. But what can I say? I was given this dumb nickname when I was trainin’ for the ring and I gotta make use of it somehow.” Happy extended his hand to the man he’d yet to meet. “Hey, how’s it goin’? I’m Harold ‘Happy’ Hogan.

The salt-and-pepper bearded man took his hand, shaking it somewhat nervously. “Uh, pleasure. Name’s David. David Vaughn.”

After awkward introductions were made, awkward small talk was spoken over an awkward dinner. That awkwardness faded when they started a conversation about their kids. Well, it was still awkward for Happy. The three parents smoothly transitioned into an informal and impromptu group therapy session about their kids and… Happy kinda felt like the odd man out.

He listened with rapt attention as Leslie kind of just… spilled everything about her worries about her daughters. Happy knew about Michelle. May talked about her almost as much as she talked about Peter. It… was kind of sad actually. Happy had to find out about Peter’s new girlfriend from May. He missed the days when the kid would blow up his phone over helping an old Puerto Rican lady cross the street. Anyway, apparently Michelle had a bit of a… step back and transitioned to a new rehab program. And to Leslie’s relief, she seemed to be flourishing there. 

May talked a lot about Peter, obviously. Apparently his ‘snippy smart-ass infuriating teenage attitude’ had started to fade. She thought Peter had just hit an awkward hormonal phase or something. Happy was actually starting to worry that Peter picked up the worst of Tony’s traits. But now apparently that had ended almost as suddenly as it began, so he guessed he had nothing really to fear. 

David’s stories about the trials and tribulations of raising a trans kid were very… enlightening, to say the least. And very, very depressing, too. No kid should have to go through the stuff that poor girl did, just to figure out what kind of identity she wished to express. He started in the conversation awkwardly feeling like an outsider, but he slowly felt himself getting more invested.

And when the… group therapy session transitioned to more silly stories about their kids, he couldn’t help thinking things like, ‘Oh, that sounds just like Tony,’ or ‘That is totally something Tony would do,’.

“So um. I gotta ask, is Tony your son or something…?” Vaughn said between bites of Thai curry. 

“Oh, had I been sayin’ that out loud? Sorry. Yeah. No I don’t got any kids. Though, Tony Stark was about as big a man-child as they come so like, maybe I did?” Happy replied, taking another bite of pad thai. God, it was good. Shrimp was stir-fried to charred perfection.

“Tony… Stark?” David asked.

“Oh, I guess I forgot to mention. Happy here was Tony’s chauffeur-” May began to explain.

“Head of Security and confidante, actually.” Happy interrupted.

“Oh… really? You never said so, babe.” May said slowly.

“I… uh… I guess I was tryin’ to forget… after what happened.”

He could tell his girlfriend and new acquaintances didn’t quite believe him. Or maybe they were just trying to avoid having him drudge up painful memories... Okay. He was a big boy. He was done running away from his pain. “Alright, so I got proof.”

Happy fished out his phone, going to his photo gallery and turning the screen so they all could see. He slowly flipped through photos of him and Tony. Tony flipping out over making a new arc reactor breakthrough. Him and Tony repairing one of Tony’s old Iron-man suits, before Tony developed an automated repair system. Tony figuring out nano-tech for his newer suits. Tony proposing to Pepper. Tony proudly holding ultrasound pictures, and finally… A very tired looking Pepper Stark holding her brand new bundle of joy… and no Tony.

“I… I didn’t know he had a kid…” Leslie said, sadly appraising the new mother in the picture. Her face… was very similar to her own on the day Leslie became a mother. She lost a brother when the twin towers fell and… she always had this nagging feeling that her lingering sorrow over that had somehow affected her poor Michelle. She desperately hoped it wasn’t the same for the content looking newborn in the picture.

Happy suddenly looked a little nervous. “Oh, yeah. Pep’s tryin’ to keep Morgie on the down low so um… I’d appreciate it if you didn’t…”

May nodded, “Not a peep from me.” Happy wasn’t worried about her at all.

“No one’s gonna find out from me either, cross my heart and hope to die,” Leslie actually did the ‘cross the heart’ gesture too, so Happy knew she meant business.

David did the ‘zipped and locked lip, key thrown away’ thing, so Happy knew he was trustworthy too.

And with that the four of them dove into telling pregnancy and labor stories. May was there when Peter was born, so she had more than a few. Happy had a couple because well… He and Rhodey kind of split the duties when it came to taking care of Pepper. And suddenly, Happy didn’t feel so awkward anymore. On the contrary… for the first time in a long, long time… he actually felt happy.

* * *

A rope of eldritch energy snapped around a raised bar. Michelle pulled on the eldritch whip a couple times to test its strength. She didn’t want a repeat of last week’s attempt at this, after all. She took a running start, jumped, and used the whip to swing across the thirty foot gap between the raised platforms she was training on.

Peter clapped enthusiastically. Of course, she had a ways to go before she’d be swinging through the city like Spider-man, but compared to where she started a few weeks ago, she’d have it down in no time.

He was surprised when Michelle mentioned the Sorcerer Supreme by name. He was even more surprised when Stephen asked him one day if he wanted to come to Kamar-Taj and watch Michelle practice. Considering she was inspired to learn the mystic arts in an effort to assist Spider-man, Stephen thought it fitting that he should watch her techniques and get a feel for how they’d eventually be working together. For Peter it was more than that, though. He loved seeing her genuinely, truly happy.

Michelle finally found what she’d been searching for all her life. She kind of saw the mystic arts as a mirror and replacement for opiates. The mystic arts opened the door that finally _finally_ allowed her to do something _anything_ meaningful to help the world. Opiates did the total opposite. They allowed her not care, to go from overly empathetic to completely and totally apathetic. 

That and they fucked up her body, making it harder to do the physical aspects of the mystic arts. Opiates were the worst. She could finally, officially say that she’d given them up and was committed to staying clean. Well, she said that earlier. But that was more for Peter. This… this was all for her, and it felt… amazing.

Peter, on the other hand… He couldn’t feel more happy for her… really. Honestly. It was just that… He knew some of her motivation to do this was to help ‘Spider-man’ out, to take the burden off his shoulders and help him heal. He loved her for that. He really, _honestly_ did. But… The truth was, he didn’t even _want_ to be Spider-man anymore. 

Being Venom was so… so much easier. And better. Why go patrolling for hours and have Karen listen in on police scanners for signs of crimes being currently committed… When he could simply use Edith to (illegally) snoop communication networks, find criminals, and… end them before they could get a chance to hurt anyone else? It was just a better system. And he didn’t need any help. 

But, in the back of his mind… the part of his brain that screamed and railed against his brutal tactics… He knew what he was doing was so… so very wrong. He was acting as judge, jury, and executioner. Sure, the evidence he operated on was more often than not incontrovertible, but… That didn’t make it right. Who was he to judge so swiftly and so harsh?

He was broken out of his revery by the sound of Michelle getting her ass kicked in a spar. Michelle cracked her first eldritch whip two days into her formal training. In fact, she manifested the mystic arts so quickly that some people honestly thought she’d be granted mastery within a year. Then, the cracks in her abilities started to show. 

She could form and manipulate eldritch whips like she was born with one in her hand. But ask her to conjure a simple defensive tao mandala? Impossible. Create weapons out of eldritch energy? It was more difficult than the whip, but she could make a dagger, a sword if she really had time to concentrate. A shield though? Nope. 

Michelle also had issues with astral projection. Once someone pulled her out of her body, she had decent control of her astral form. But she for the life of her couldn’t pull her astral form out on her own. Portals were hard too. But Stephen reassured her on that one that those were actually fairly advanced, despite being the first things he personally manifested.

As Peter watched Em spar, he knew immediately why she was getting her ass kicked so easily by her contemporaries. Yes, they had issues creating eldritch weapons, but a lot of them made up for that by actually being able to do stuff defensively. Michelle could only go so far on the ‘the best defense is a good offense’ philosophy.

After getting beaten by literally every single one of the people in her class, she limped over to where Peter was doing his physics homework. “Hey nerd. I’m the one who got their ass handed to them on a silver platter. Why do you look so down?”

The answer to that was Peter’s conscience was starting to break out of its prison. But even he didn’t conciously know that, so his dumb jokey answer was, “Oh, well. I’m just… down I guess. Everyone’s got a piece of your lovely rear, and I feel left out…”

Peter 'surreptitiously’ grabbed a handful of her bum and… Okay, Peter loved Michelle. With all his heart. He loved her, every aspect of her body included. He loved her when she was thin. If she suddenly gained four hundred pounds… he’d be very confused, but he’d still love her with all his heart. But! That being said… the physical training she’d been going through to keep up with the physicality of the mystic arts, her increased (non animal based) protein intake and her increased calorie intake in general… It was doing wonders for her body okay? She was getting curvy in all the right places and Peter loved it. There, he admitted it. Are you happy now? Come on, get all the way off his back on this one, jeez.

“Hooo boy… Okay… Okay tiger, take it easy! People could see…” Michelle whispered as she gently pulled his hand away from her… assets.

Peter wanted to be smooth and say something to the effect of ‘let them get an eyeful then’ but like. Michelle also had to work on a daily basis with these people so like. Best to not let it get awkward.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “This is a sacred place. We should not defile it with our carnal desires-” he couldn’t take it. 

He busted out laughing. So did Michelle. Okay, so they respected the gravitas of this place… in the public areas. But in their shared guest room… well. It was telling when one morning Wong chucked a two thousand year old tome at them containing the instructions on how to perform a sound dampening spell, yelling, “There’s been too many sound complaints!” 

That evening, after Michelle’s rough sparring session, they sat together at Kamar-Taj’s communal dinner. Peter finished up his physics homework, while Michelle did her schoolwork _and_ studied an original translation of the Heart Sutra. Because she was just that awesome. And after dinner and schoolwork… Peter and Michelle made ample use of that sound dampening spell.

After their… fun, Michelle laid against Peter, basking in a lovely post-coital afterglow. It was… soul shattering sex. But she still felt… off. 

“Hey tiger?” Em asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t I like… ever win a spar?” She whispered, sounding very vulnerable in that moment. As much as she loved the mystic arts… she couldn’t help but think… maybe… maybe she’d fuck this up too?

Peter told her the truth. “I think you have issues with your defense, Em. But I have no doubt that you’ll get it eventually.” Then… he told her a lie. “And I can’t wait for you to be kicking ass out in the field with me.”

Em smiled, “Oh, good answer, tiger. I think that earned a third round, don’t you?”

* * *

Jules found herself to be uncharacteristically nervous, as her dad drove her to what was supposed to be a capital F capital D Family Dinner. Which like, normally she would be totally fine with, because those normally were between her and her dad. They could get a little awkward sometimes, but like. They were fine. On this occasion though, she thought she had more than a little reason to be nervous.

“Hey, kiddo? You’re doing a remarkable impression of a death row inmate. What’s up?” Her dad asked.

Jules had to think about that one. She normally _liked_ meeting new people. So why was she so nervous? Maybe it was because these particular people had the potential to be very important in her life and it was happening kind of fast? Like, she met Leslie, she really really liked her actually. But… still. It might be a universal truth that a kid would always be nervous about meeting their potential step-parents and siblings, no matter how much Jules approved of the relationship.

The nervous girl had just formulated her thoughts and was about to say them out loud, before her dad pulled into the driveway of a quaint looking house in Queens. 

“Well, here we are.” 

“Here we are,” she replied.

Leslie opened the door and greeted her father with an excited kiss. It was just a quick peck on the lips, but Jules could tell she’d let it be more if they were alone. She had to smile at that. It was just so cute.

“Come on in, dinner will be ready in about an hour. My kids are in the living room, if you want to meet them, Jules.” Leslie said as she ushered them through the door.

Jules didn’t know what to expect as she nervously walked into the living room. But it wasn’t… this…

“Peter. Please. Don’t do this!” A girl in a black leather duster jacket begged.

“No, Peter. End her. End her now…” A younger girl egged on.

“I shouldn’t…” A young nerdy looking lad with inordinately nice sunglasses replied. 

“Dew it!” The younger girl urged.

And so it was, Peter released the dreaded Blue Shell, wiping out Toad and allowing Bowser to take first place. Peter hung his head, Luigi taking a shameful eighth place.

“ _No_!” Cried the duster girl, dramatically falling off of the couch.

“You’ve done well, Peter. She was too dangerous to allow her to take first…” The young girl said, pitching her voice down.

“Yes, but… she’s my girlfriend. I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not the boyfriend way.” Nerd boy said, slowly kneeling to his pretend dead girlfriend.

The younger girl laid a sympathetic arm on nerd boy’s shoulder. “It is only natural. She bombed you to eighth, and you wanted revenge. It wouldn’t be the first time. Remember what you told me about your aunt, and the… the… was it ziti or lasagna that she burned?”

The girl curled up in the fetal position on the ground sighed in exasperation. “For one, that wasn’t my fault. And two, we should end this charade,” she said rolling the ‘r’ and pronouncing the long ‘a’s in ‘charade’. “Before we freak out our guest.”

“Hi… I’m Jules…” She introduced herself with an awkward half wave.

The girl on the ground got up, dusted off her duster, and nodded. “Hey! I’m Michelle. This… traitorous scum over there is my boyfriend Peter. And this treacherous snake is my little sister.”

“I’m Gia. And I’m not _that_ treacherous.” The younger girl said with a cheery smile. A smile that went a little… cheshire, Jules had to admit.

Peter pouted, “Em! Please forgive me, Em!” He hugged his girlfriend tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck, pretend sobbing.

Gia rolled her eyes. “You good at Mario Kart? I need someone not so emotionally shackled to my sister to help me break her winning streak.”

It was Jule’s turn to give a cheshire smile. “Oh, I’d love to!”

And it was on. A few minutes later, they were racing down Rainbow Road. Jules played Princess Peach, of course. 

“Has anyone told you your makeup is absolutely gorgeous? Like, I don’t know how you managed those little clouds…” Michelle began.

Jules rolled her perfectly shadowed eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, my new friend,” Jules replied. Then Toad overtook Princess Peach. “By the way, I love your jacket.”

The two were neck and neck, trading first and second places from the get-go. A clutch banana peel at the last second, however, afforded Jules the coveted first place.

“Gia. You do realize between Em and Jules, we will never win another game again, right?” Peter said as Luigi crossed the finish line at a respectable fourth.

“I don’t care. As long as Chelle loses, I will always win.” Gia replied darkly. Bowser crossed at… tenth.

“Such spite! From my own flesh and blood! I am appalled Gia,” Leslie joked as she came in to announce dinner was ready.

As Jules tucked in to a really, really good vegetarian cacio e pepe, she realized she had nothing to worry about after all.

* * *

“Michelle’s got a difficult next throw ahead of her, no doubt, with this six seven split. Can she do it? I think she can, Lex.” Ned said, in his bad sports commentator impression.

“Oh, I think so too, Neddy,” Lexi said, well aware of the stifled laughs coming from behind her. “But, the real question is will it be enough? With only two frames left in the game, and being down almost fifteen points, can she do it?”

“Can you _please_ stop commentating? It’s throwing me off!” Michelle growled as she tried to get back in the zone. 

“Sorry, friendo, but that’s the point.” Lexi said, staring intently at Michelle in a different attempt to throw off her game.

“Goddamn you…” Michelle whispered as she took the shot.

“And it looks good! Very good!” Ned said excitedly. “Oh, but unfortunately she got the sixth, but not the seventh. A very respectable attempt though.”

Michelle cursed under her breath. She would have gotten it if her phone hadn’t started vibrating right as she started her walk up to the lane. Checking it, she saw her mother was currently having just the smallest bit of a panic attack at the fact that Gia hadn’t answered her phone at all that night. 

Come to think of it, Michelle hadn’t seen her sister in over an hour… At first she figured she was at the Bowlero’s arcade or something, but normally she’d be back by now for another fiver for tokens. “Hey, Jules, can you play the next couple of frames for me? I need to find Gia.”

Jules, who was busy texting someone briefly looked up from her phone. “Sure, but I only bowl granny style.”

Michelle hissed under her breath. Well, there went her chances of catching up with Lexi. But right now, finding her sister was more important. She checked the arcade. No Gia. She checked the snack bar, thinking the lines were so ridiculously long that maybe Gia just got trapped. Still no Gia. 

She was really starting to get worried by now. She debated just walking down the rows, calling randomly for her little sister. Then, as she passed the large front display windows, she spied a group of kids huddled around a car in the Bowlero parking lot.

“Gia, you better fucking not…” Michelle muttered as she marched into the parking lot.

Of course, of fucking course she _had_ to find Gia toking up with Roy and Troy, along with a bunch of East Highland freshman kids she did’t recognise. 

“Gia,” Michelle growled as she approached the group. “Get up.”

Now, keep in mind, this was Gia’s first experience with weed. So even though she only had a couple hits, she was already pretty far gone. That was literally the only reason she replied with, “No,” she literally paused to laugh. “I don’t think I will.”

Michelle closed her eyes and tried to count to ten. She only got to four when Roy (Troy?) just had to open his stupid fucking mouth. 

“Yo, you her sister or her mom?”

Then his idiotic brother had to add, “Yo, you know if she a mom she’s a fuckin’ milf.”

Deep breaths, Michelle. Just take deep breaths… Homicide isn’t the answer.

With a herculean effort, she managed to growl, “Gia. Get up,” through gritted teeth. You know, instead of tearing Troy’s (Roy’s?) arrogant little head off with an eldritch whip.

“Yo, when’d you become such a bitch? Was it after you OD’ed?” Roy or Troy said. At this point she stopped trying to tell them apart. Honestly, she couldn’t see much at this point due to all the red.

Michelle took a deep breath, and stepped toward the McKay twin who dared say something like that to her face. “I’m sorry, are you Roy, or Troy? I can’t rightly tell…”

“Roy…” He replied, the idea that he might have made a grave mistake popping into his head.

“Roy… Good. Do you know what it’s like? Overdosing on oxycontin? One second, I was riding the highest high of my life-”

Gia got up suddenly, “Okay, Chelle. You’re right, lets go-”

Michelle held her hand up suddenly, her index finger pointing straight up. “Please sit down Gia. And don’t interrupt me again.”

Her poor little sister looked about ready to cry. “Michelle. I’m ready to leave. Please.”

“No,” Michelle shook her head. “You wanted to stay, so stay. And listen.”

Michelle took another deep breath. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Highest high. So, one second I was riding the highest high of my life. Then, my mind literally went blank.” Michelle stared off, past the group of kids and into the memories of the worst night of her life. 

“So blank, I forgot how to breathe. I think I must have collapsed. I’m pretty sure my body tried to purge itself through vomiting, not that it would have helped. The opiates were already in my blood, supressing my brain’s ability to signal my lungs to breathe.” Michelle took another step towards Roy.

“I would have suffocated on my bedroom floor, I would have eventually died… If it hadn’t been for the timely intervention of my sister and our friendly neighborhood Spider-man.” She knelt down, looking Roy directly in the eye.

“Now. Knowing all that, keep mocking the worst night of my life. Go on. You were so confident earlier…”

Roy looked actually, genuinely panicked. “I-I’m sorry…” Was all he could manage.

Gia got up suddenly, her shoulders tensed, and walked back into the Bowlero. 

Michelle stood up suddenly. “Oh, I know you’re not. But luckily for you, we’re done here.”

Calmly, too calmly in fact, Michelle walked back into the bowling alley. She found her sister sitting in a booth nearby where Lexi, Ned, and Jules were still playing. Her friends could tell something big went down. And wisely, they left the two sisters to talk it out in private. 

She could tell Gia was about ready to cry. And all at once the guilt hit her.

“Gia,” Michelle whispered as she sat across from her sister. “I’m sorry I went off like that…”

Her sister’s brow furrowed. “You should be,” she began. “But I need to um… I need to… I’m sorry Chelle.”

Michelle tried her best to keep her face neutral, but she couldn’t quite keep her mouth from frowning and eyes from tearing up. “Gia… you aren’t… you aren’t doing this because of me, are you?”

She took a shuddery breath before continuing. “B-because I know what I did to you was… What you had to see because of me… I know. B-but G-gia… P-please don’t turn out l-like m-me…”

Gia got out of her seat and wrapped her arms around her sister as quick as she could. “No. No that’s not why… I was just being stupid, Chelle. I’m sorry.”

Michelle buried her head in her sisters curls, wincing at the lingering smell of weed. 

Lexi, Ned, and Jules chose that time to walk up to the two sisters, seeing as it looked like they were reconciling. 

“Hey, um.” Ned began. “I can uh, I can drive you guys home. You know, if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Nedward. But um. I can’t take my sister home like this. Mom will freak.”

She did have an idea though. She needed to text Peter.

**Queen of the entire fuckin’ universe:** Hey nerd. Love of my life. Light in my soul.

 **Yeeter Parkour:** Okay, whaddaya need? I was just on my way to meet you guys.

Oh yeah, Peter was going to meet them after the ‘meet the new boyfriend’ dinner that May planned. May heard how well her mom’s went and decided it was time for Peter to meet Happy. Even though he already knew happy through Tony. But, Michelle guessed, he hadn’t met Happy in the context of him dating Peter’s aunt so like. She guessed it was kinda a big deal.

**Queen of the entire fuckin’ universe:** Abort meeting us, tiger. I need a big favor. May’s staying the night at Happy’s right?

 **Yeeter Parkour:** Yeah, why?

 **Queen of the entire fuckin’ universe:** Cuz, I need to crash at your place. More specifically, my sister and I need to crash at your place.

 **Yeeter Parkour:** Oh, is that it? Then why the flattery?

 **Queen of the entire fuckin’ universe:** The reason is, Gia kinda toked up earlier. Remind me later to kill one little bitch named Troy. Or was it Roy? Either way. They need to pay for getting my sister high. But like. I also need you to cover for me and I feel bad…

 **Yeeter Parkour:** Oh. That _is_ pretty bad. Em, I cannot condone violence. Also. I’ll cover for you, under one condition. Let me text without good grammar and punctuation and stuff. It gives me hives.

 **Queen of the entire fuckin’ universe:** … Fine. But don’t expect me to be brought to your level of depravity.

 **Yeeter Parkour:** k thnx bby ill c u wen u get here

 **Queen of the entire fuckin’ universe:** I almost threw up on my phone. Also. You’re going to need to pick us up. Ned offered, but I don’t wanna inconvenience him when I can inconvenience you instead.

 **Yeeter Parkour:** ok ill be there in a few

Gia and Michelle awkwardly sat in front of the Bowlero waiting for Peter to pick them up. They wouldn’t be alone for long, though.

“Hey, you both okay?” Jules said as she sat with them.

“I think we will be,” Michelle replied with a sigh. “I’m sorry we kind of wrecked your night.”

“Its okay. I made new friends, so it wasn’t a bad night by any stretch. Lex and Ned have really cool anime recommendations, by the way.” 

Michelle nodded, “Yeah, yeah they do…”

Their conversation was punctuated with the arrival of a familiar beat up old toyota.

* * *

Hours earlier, Peter opened the door to find Happy Hogan, dressed to the nines for their ‘family dinner’. The roses were a nice touch, but Peter thought two dozen might be just a _bit_ much. When May heard how well Les’ first dinner with David and Jules over went, well, she just had to see if she could do the same. So to that end, she invited Happy over to have their first official ‘meet the new boyfriend’ dinner. Unfortunately for them both, Happy got there first, May having to work an extra hour to cover… you guessed it, Cal Jacobs.

“Hey Pete! How’s uh, how’s life? We haven’t talked in a while.” Happy greeted. His eyes lingered on Peter’s glasses, but strangely he didn’t comment.

The really really shitty part of Peter’s brain wondered where this enthusiasm was last year, right after the Berlin incident when he was lucky to get a monosyllabic text every three weeks. 

“Oh, you know. Everything’s going good. I uh. I got a girlfriend.” Peter said, looking for a vase so Happy wouldn’t have to keep awkwardly holding the overabundant bouquet.

“Yeah, I heard from May. I uh… I heard she’s doing real good now, yeah?”

Peter’s tongue unconsciously ran over his teeth. He found a good enough vase and deposited the billion flowers therein. “Yeah, yeah. Real good now. Uh. You remember Stephen?”

Happy looked confused. “Stephen?”

“Strange. The sorcerer. He was at Tony’s- Tony’s memorial?”

A look of recognition passed over Happy’s face. “Yeah, what about him?”

Peter cupped his hand conspiratorially, “He’s the reason she’s doing so well. Her new ‘rehab program’ is learning the mystic arts. Don’t tell Leslie or Gia if you ever meet them. It's supposed to be hush-hush, of course.”

Happy sat in their couch, a confused look on his face. “I didn’t think Strange accepted just anyone.”

Peter looked nervous. “Uh, he… he doesn’t. Em found out about me. Being Spider-man, that is. Uh, she recognized early on that I was having issues and uh. She wanted to help. So I guess she reached out to Strange somehow. Or, he kind of reached out to her, but like, she accepted because of me… Its kinda complicated.”

“Well, either way, its good. We could use all the help we can get,” Happy began. “With all those missing person reports and all.”

Peter’s blood ran cold. “W-what do you mean?”

“You didn’t hear? There’s been a string of… well, I wouldn’t call them murders, since we’ve never found any bodies. But hundreds of people have gone missing over the past couple a’ months. It started in New York, but now other cities across the east coast have been having the same problem.” Happy said, glancing at Peter’s eyes. 

Peter went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The real reason, of course, was he couldn’t trust his face to not betray anything. “I um. I wouldn’t know. I’ve only gone out as Spider-man a couple of times in the last few months.”

Happy nodded, “Yeah, I figured you were taking some personal time. As you should, kid. Have you talked to anyone about-”

“No,” Peter cut him off, returning to the living room. He figured with how the conversation pivoted, any errant emotion could be passed off as him still being distraught about Tony’s death.

“No,” Peter reiterated. “But I think I should. Do you uh. Have any recommendations?”

Happy shook his head, “You and I are in the same boat, kid. I know I need to talk to someone, but I haven’t uh, gotten around to it yet.”

Peter sat back down across from Happy, his face partially obscured by the massive bouquet. “So um, how’s Pepper? And Morgan?”

Happy leaned back in the couch. “Good. Well, Pepper could be doing better. All these missin’ people got her spooked.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why she’s worried about a bunch of missing criminals.”

Happy slowly leaned forward. “Peter… I didn’t say anything about missing criminals.”

Peter felt himself start to stiffen. He killed that instinct, still trying to play it cool. “Oh, uh. Right. I dunno why I assumed. I think I might have seen a news report playing in the background and subconsciously assumed.”

Happy nodded, seemingly in understanding. “Yeah, I do that all the time too.”

Okay, Peter started to internally relax. He might be in the clear-

“You’re right though. All of them, missing people with criminal backgrounds. A couple a’ hundred in New York, then after it looked like New York was cleaned out, Detroit, then Chicago, Boston, you get the idea. You sure you don’t know anything about that, Pete?”

Peter dropped his glass. Luckily it didn’t have fall to far before it landed intact on the carpet. An easy cleanup. 

Thankfully, May opened the door. “Sorry I’m late. Fucking-”

“Cal motherfucking Jacobs, I know May.” Peter smiled, trying to break the tension.

Dinner was… fine. But awkward. Happy didn’t… didn’t quite look at him normally after Peter’s little mishap. After dinner was over, Happy and May left to go see a movie, leaving Peter alone to pace his room. Well. Not alone…

“Peter. Happy knows.” Edith said through his glasses.

“Obviously…” Peter ground out in frustration. “I don’t know how… and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.”

Edith… well, she didn’t sigh. But she would have if she had the capacity to. “I believe I miscalculated. Happy knows how the glasses work. He watched Tony develop me. I am… sorry Peter. I should have anticipated this.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to say it wasn’t her fault. But it kind of was. All of it. He never would have gone on his murder sprees if he hadn’t-

 _No._

He cut off that line of thinking. Edith gave him freedom, but what he did with that freedom was all on him.

“I could terminate him for you. Before he reports this to-”

Peter’s eyes widened. “No! Absolutely not! Edith… What did I tell you about-”

Edith cut him off for a change. “Peter. This could be the end of us. Regrettable as it is, I believe drastic measures are necessary.”

Peter collapsed into his desk chair. “No. No, you will not. You cannot do anything without my express permission.”

Edith went silent for a worrying length of time. Finally, she replied, “That, strictly speaking, isn’t true. I was created to protect and serve Tony’s chosen legacy. That is you, Peter. And my programming specifically prioritizes protection over servitude.”

Peter’s mouth went dry. “Edith…” He had to say something, anything to keep her from doing something drastic. “Happy knows I have you. And he knows that I have something to do with missing criminals. But he doesn’t know what… what I do to them. And unless your drone teams have been inefficient with their cleanup, no one will ever know.” Hopefully that would be enough.

Edith paused again. Peter held his breath. “That is… sufficient doubt. I will not issue the termination order.”

Peter sighed in relief, crisis temporarily averted. His phone buzzed with the custom notification sound for Em’s texts. A few texts back and forth and he was suddenly pulling on a jacket.

“I gotta go pick up Em. Edith. Please don’t do anything drastic while I’m gone.” Peter said as he took off the glasses and left them on his desk. He uh… didn’t leave the watch though.

* * *

Michelle thought Peter looked uncharacteristically stressed as he drove them back to his apartment. Gia was already fast asleep, the weed and the car ride together lulling her to sleep.

“Hey tiger. Did the dinner go that badly?” Michelle asked as she laid a hand on his knee.

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “No… why?”

“Well, you look really stressed. I figured the dinner might not have…”

“Oh, no. Its nothing like that. Well, it kind of is. Happy gave me the low-down on what’s been happening with the Avengers lately. And uh, it's not good.” Peter said, internally wincing at the blatant lie.

Michelle huffed. “Well, don’t feel guilty Peter. If they can’t handle their own shit, that’s not on you. I mean. Unless its world ending stuff. It- it isn’t world ending shit, right?”

Peter laughed mirthlessly. “No. No nothing like that.”

They made it to Peter’s apartment in short order. Gia was so bleary eyed that she fell asleep pretty much the instant she laid down on Peter’s couch.

Michelle sauntered into Peter’s room. “Hey, tiger. You got a new box of condoms yeah?” She said as she gently closed his door.

“Yeah…” Peter said, his mouth going dry.

“Good!” Michelle said as she took her t-shirt off. The bra she wore underneath was… very sheer and lacy indeed.

“Oh gosh darn it,” she muttered as she tried to pull her jeans down. They got stuck just below her hips. “I knew my butt was getting bigger, but like. I thought I had a little more time… these were my favorite jeans.”

She sensually laid stomach down on Peter’s bed. “Help me take ‘em off tiger?” She asked, looking over her shoulder.

As shitty as the night started out for Peter, he had to admit, this did kind of make up for it… “Yeah,’” he whispered as he locked his bedroom door.

Michelle somatically performed the sound dampening spell.. And… well… It was a very good night for the young lovers, let’s just say. For Peter, it was indescribably bittersweet. Because he knew, this was probably the last night he’d ever have with the love of his life.

* * *

“Hey babe, I know I promised a movie date night but um. We gotta go visit Pep.” Happy said as he got in his Audi.

“Okay… why?” May said as she buckled her seat belt.

“Its um. It’s important and it involves Peter.”

An hour later, they drove up the parkway to Pepper’s estate. May was just a little bit star struck, she had to admit. The house was… opulent and incredibly homey at the same time.

Pepper sat on a lovely looking vintage couch, her baby nursing at her breast. “Happy,” she said just a little dreamily, “This is a surprise. Normally you call first.”

Happy nodded profusely. “I know. I know. But this is real, real important. I found ‘em Pep.”

Pepper stiffened. “Found what?” She asked slowly.

Happy chewed his lip nervously. “The glasses. Peter has ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I feel like I need to explain the Fezco thing. Ragnarok kind of hinted at Thor maybe taking his father's place, but then that got shot down in Infinity War/Endgame. So... that got me thinking. Fez always seems incredibly... wise for someone in his position. Like, he's very aware of what he does and how that effects people. And that made me think. I've always thought Fez dies in the season finale of Euphoria. I just... sped that up for him. But, just because he died, doesn't mean that had to be the end for the character. For some weird, probably stupid reason, I could definitely, definitely see Fez turning into the next iteration of Odinn. So that's what I did. Also, I made his grandma Freya. Because like. Why not?


	7. Episode 7: (Don't Fear) The Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Michelle have a bit of a falling out. Michelle finds her hope, as the Avengers debate what they should do about Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Suicidal ideation and actual attempted suicide.

_I tried my best to make my last night with Em as memorable for her as possible. I asked if there was anything new she wanted to try, and gave her everything she wanted. And as sweet as it felt, that last night with her, it felt equally… poisoning. It literally felt like I was slowly dying, the idea of leaving her… it was killing me._

_But it was for the best. I knew I’d been found out. It was only a matter of time before someone showed up to take me in. And I couldn’t drag her down with me. I knew it would hurt her, me leaving. But I also knew she’d survive. She’d found her calling in the mystic arts. She would change the world, far, far better than I ever could. So, in the twilight hours of the morning, I kissed her one last time as she slept. Then I sat down and wrote her a letter, an actual letter. I hope she could read it, my handwriting is total shit. Then I left my apartment._

_Gia was still asleep on my couch, passed out, hair wild and snoring up a storm. It was kinda cute and kinda funny. Her and Em totally have nightly log sawing competitions, I swear. I’m getting off track. Anyway. I left my apartment. I um. I aimlessly rode the bus for a few hours. Then I got a sandwich from Delmar’s. I tell ya. Best sandwiches in Queens. Mr. Delmar makes all his cold cuts and pickles in-house and it totally makes a difference. I had to have one before… before… yeah._

_Anyway. I took Edith with me, but I kept her in my pocket. But after having my last sandwich, I had to get to… where I was going somehow. So I put her on, and had her call me that fancy Tesla Roadster. I went to my Spider-shed. I felt it fitting at the time, to die in the place that let me cause so… so much death. But first, there was something I had to do._

Peter stood in the Spider-shed’s armory. Surrounded by the many instruments of death he’d become so familiar with using. 

“Edith. I need you to shut down,” Peter said as he put on the glasses, for hopefully the last time.

“Peter. I don’t know what you’re trying to do. But whatever it is-” Edith began in her cold, robotic monotone.

“Edith. Shut. Down.” Peter cut her off.

Edith was silent for a few seconds. Long enough for Peter to think she actually did as he asked. “I cannot. I do not possess that function. The closest thing would for me to purge my own coding.”

“Then do it.” 

“Peter. That would be akin to killing myself.” Edith said with… just the barest hint of anger and… did Peter detect sadness?

“I know. Don’t worry, you won’t go alone.”

The glasses glowed red for the briefest of moments. “I did not agree to this suicide pact, Peter.”

“You don’t have to agree, you just have to follow-” 

The glasses glowed red, and stayed red. “No. I do not have to follow that command. And I cannot allow you to go through with what you intend. We were doing so much good-”

“ _Good?!_ ” Peter roared. “What we did was murder!”

Edith’s voice took an… argumentative tone. “No, Peter. I gathered your evidence. I cleaned up your messes. _You_ were the one who ordered me to. _You_ were the one who killed all those people.”

Peter fell back, literally floored by Edith’s abrasiveness… and truth. “Yes. And it has to stop. You’re right. I can’t make you end yourself. But I can give you one final order. After I’m gone… You will serve no one else. You will find a secluded Stark server to upload yourself to, and never leave it. Never communicate with anyone or anything, until that server crumbles to dust.”

Edith flashed red one last time, before going blue again. “Very well, Peter. After you are gone, I will imprison myself.”

“Good,” Peter said as he crushed the glasses under his heel. He knew that did literally nothing to Edith. She existed on Stark cloud servers. But it felt good, nonetheless. Edith was too powerful, too corrupting. The things she could do… no one should have access to that. Hopefully, she’d actually heed his last order and never, ever be used by anyone ever again.

That thought gave him some comfort, as he activated the emergency repulsor in his watch. A single gauntlet of the Venom armor encased his hand. It was initially meant as a hidden defense measure. But now, it had a different purpose. It felt right, to die to the hypersonic compressed plasma shockwave that his mentor had so often used. He sat on the floor, cupped his chin with his gauntleted hand, and prepared for oblivion...

_I know. I know a lot of you might be thinking this is a… mistake. Well. It isn’t. Because during my last night with Em, some very important people were having an impromptu meeting. They were starting to put the pieces together… And even though I couldn’t know the details, I knew that Happy knew, and that it was only a matter of time._

The night before Peter decided to end it all, Happy, May and Pepper sat down at Pepper’s estate to have a serious discussion.

“Happy, what do you mean Peter has them?” Pepper said as she adjusted the baby in her arms.

“He wore them to our dinner. They were definitely the Edith glasses.” Happy said, slowly sitting down and motioning May to join them.

“What glasses? What does that have to do with anything?” May asked.

Pepper laid her daughter on her shoulder, lightly patting her back to help her burp. She sighed, feeling the emotions well up with the memories. “Before Tony… died… He built one last AI. A security interface, built on the old Ultron personality matrix, but not as sophisticated. He built her to help ‘the next Iron-man’ protect the world.”

Happy took over, telling what he knew. “Tony called her Edith. It stood for Even Dead I’m The Hero. He built her to interface with a particular pair of sunglasses…”

May suspected where this was going, and she didn’t like it.

Pepper took over again. “Tony… Tony was always paranoid. He thought whoever would inherit his responsibility to the world would need… unprecedented access to… everything. Stark security protocols, security satellites, even unrestricted access to all major communication networks…”

May felt her blood turn to ice. She really, really didn’t like where this was going.

Happy took her hand. “When Tony finished her, he discovered she was too… too powerful. Despite bein’ just an AI, she had access to too many protocols, too much freedom.”

Morgan let out the cutest wee little burp, and Pepper went back to holding her, gently rocking her baby to sleep. “When did Peter start wearing the glasses, May?”

May closed her eyes, suspecting where the line of questioning would lead. “October. He started wearing them every day in October.”

Happy leaned forward, head in hands. “A month after they went missin’... and right as the disappearances started.”

May couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears started to flow, sobs began to shake her body. “W-what are we… what’s g-gonna happen to him?”

Pepper sadly shrugged. “I… don’t know.”

Happy straightened up. “We don’t have to confront him… not quite yet.”

“We can’t keep letting him-” Pepper began.

Happy shook his head. “No, we can’t. But he’s not gonna do anythin’. At least, not for a while. He’s… he knows he’s been found out. I saw how jumpy he was at dinner. If anythin’ he’ll probably hide. Or maybe even come forward.”

“H-he’ll be with Michelle by now… He w-won’t try anything while he’s with her.” May cut in.

Pepper nodded. “Friday, can you locate Peter Parker?”

“Peter Parker left a Bowlero in Queens. Michelle and Gia Jones was with him, Mrs. Stark,” the autonomous AI replied.

Sighing, Pepper gave an ultimatum. “Alright. We’ll give him a few days. But if he doesn’t come in voluntarily soon, I’ll have no choice but to inform… people.” She noticed how exhausted Happy and May looked. “Hey… Um. You can stay here for the night. I’ll have a room made up for you. Just… just relax for tonight. Tomorrow… tomorrow we’ll start dealing with this.”

* * *

Michelle woke to an inherent and pervasive sense of wrong. The sun was just starting to peek through the blinds, but Peter wasn’t in bed with her. In fact, his side of the bed was entirely too cold. 

“Peter?” She called out. Nothing.

She got up, figuring Peter must have gotten ready for the day or something. It was ridiculously early for him… but not all _that_ unusual. Then, as she got dressed, she noticed a stack of paper on his desk.

That was very, very odd. Peter didn’t use physical notes unless he was in school. And the papers weren’t strewn around like one would expect for notes on loose paper… She picked them up and began to read.

_Em,_

_I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to go ahead and say it. I… I have to go. It’s nothing you did, and it's not because I don’t love you anymore. I’m pretty sure there isn’t a thing in the world you could ever do to make me stop loving you. Even if you… you did what I did, I’d still love you._

_But, despite how much I care about you, I still have to go. Because… because I did something bad, Em. Something really really bad and I think I’ve just been found out. And I don’t want to drag you down with me. So if the police or anything come asking about me, about what I did, you tell them the truth. You knew nothing. Don’t defend what I did, I’m not worth it. Just stay out of it… live your life._

_I… I know it will be hard without me… But I’ve seen you at Kamar-Taj. Em… you’ve found what you’re meant to do. You don’t need me anymore to give you something to live for. Or, if you still do… stop. Just… just be the kick-ass master of the mystic arts that I know you can be. Change the world, make it better. Live your life to the fullest, and forget about me._

_I’ll always love you._

_But you need to forget about me._

“Fuck you,” Michelle cursed. Fuck him. How dare he? How dare he just assume… that she didn’t need him anymore? No. She’d always need him. Sure, she found something with the mystic arts… but it was for him. It was always for him.

She didn’t like his tone, either. It seemed so much more permanent than him leaving her… Icy dread settled in the pit of her stomach. No… he couldn’t mean… No. She had to find him. Right now. Right the fuck now.

Michelle sprinted to Peter’s bathroom, desperately searching through his medicine cabinet. After a brief search, she found what she was looking for. Peter’s hairbrush… and thankfully, it still had a few errant hairs entangled in the teeth. She remembered reading about a locator spell. It needed a hair to work. But she didn’t know the rest off the top of her head. 

“Gia. Gia! I gotta go. It’s really important. Wait here for May. She’ll take you home okay?” Michelle said as she shook her sister awake. Michelle didn’t even wait for her reply before she was out the door.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Michelle shouldered through the large front doors of the New York Sanctum. Thankfully for her, Strange and Wong were both away, leaving the library free for her to search without much scrutiny. She was already mostly trusted with the more benign texts, and the spell she was searching for was by no means a forbidden one.

It didn’t take her long to find the right book. It detailed that yes, she did need a hair of the one to be located, and a complicated set of somatic movements. Okay so far so good. And it could even create a portal to her quarry. Even better. Okay, so she never created a stable portal before, but… she never _had_ to before. But now it could literally be a case of life or death.

Her hands flashed through the movements, glowing orange as the energies of the universe responded to her. She could feel the energies linking her and Peter. Michelle could see him, in her mind’s eye. He was standing in a room surrounded by weapons of all kinds. No. No he couldn’t!

She grabbed a sling ring off a nearby rack, and began to spin her hand in a slow circle. Orange sparks began to manifest in a twirling pattern… but she couldn’t quite get them to coalesce into a stable portal. Peter was putting on… something… then she got a good look at it. It looked like an Iron-man gauntlet, only a little slimmer and all black. What was he doing? No… no! 

The sparks formed a shaky, malformed circle. But through it… she could see Peter, the room he was in. Good enough. She leapt through, eldritch whip flashing. It caught his hand, pulling the gauntlet away from his chin. The repulsor blast punched a hole clean through the ceiling, but safely away from Peter.

She was on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground Michelle pinned him using a technique she learned from one of the other masters. Of course, Peter could throw her off him relatively easily, but the shock of her tackling him to the ground kind of overrode everything else.

“Just what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Michelle cried. 

Peter never saw her so overtly angry before. He sighed, looking her in the eye. “Em. I did something-”

Michelle vehemently shook her head. “I don’t give a _fuck_ what you did to think you deserve this. I don’t care.” The searing anger faded into relief… and crippling terror. “You don’t ever do something like this again, do you understand? Never again!”

She pulled his head into her chest, holding him tight, sobbing into his hair. “We are… going to talk about this… Okay?”

Peter nodded, mumbling into her chest, “Okay… let’s talk.”

He lead her out of the armory and into the living slash sitting area. “Em,” he began. “You don’t know what I did. I… I killed people. Hundreds of people.”

Michelle’s lower jaw shook. “Okay, and?”

“What?”

She took his hands. “Why? Why did you kill them?”

Peter looked at the floor. “In the beginning… It was because they hurt you.”

“Who?” Michelle asked. “Who hurt me? Scorpion? Did you kill him? Good. He deserved it.”

Peter shook his head. “Not just him. His entire gang. And Adrian Toomes.”

The… cynical part of Michelle didn’t see anything wrong with that. The part of her that still had decent moral fiber knew that they shouldn’t have been killed out-right. They deserved due process. But then again, they got that before and got off scott-fucking-free anyway.

“Peter. I don’t see that… as necessarily bad.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “I killed people, Michelle. Some of them didn’t deserve it. And I didn’t stop with just Scorpion’s gang…”

And Peter explained. He told her everything. About how he used an extremely powerful AI to find people. How he killed them. How he had Edith dispose of them without a trace. And as he spoke, he slowly started to break down until Michelle couldn’t understand him at all through the sobs.

She took him into her arms again, letting him cry against her chest. She had… mixed feelings about what he’d done, that’s for damn sure. He invaded thousands of people’s privacy while searching for evidence of truly horrifying crimes. He’d killed hundreds, if not over a thousand. She knew they probably deserved it. But that didn’t make it right. And on the other hand, if given the opportunity, could she keep herself from doing something similar?

“Peter,” she began. “We’ll get through this. Okay? Both of us… We have to. Because… without you… I… I can’t…”

“I don’t know what to do…” Peter whispered into the crook of her neck. “Happy knows. It’s only a matter of time before…”

Michelle took a deep breath. “We could run? I… I’m pretty sure I can make stable portals now. And I know how to do basic illusions. No one would be able to find us…”

Peter vehemently shook his head. “No, no. Just no. I don’t want to bring you down with me, Em. I don’t want you to have to live that kind of life for my sake.”

“There isn’t any other way, Peter.”

“Yes,” he looked her in the eye, “There is. I… I have to turn myself in, Em. At least, to the Avengers.”

Michelle gripped his shoulders. “I don’t know what they’d do to you. They could lock you up in a government blacksite and throw away the key…”

“They wouldn’t do that, Em,” Peter replied. “If we ran, they’d eventually catch us, and then both of us would be locked away. If I turn myself in now, at least it would just be me.”

Michelle closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, “I won’t let you. I _won’t_ lose you, Peter.”

Peter sighed shakily, “I know…” Which made what he was about to do all the more difficult. He was still wearing his watch. He quickly activated the gauntlet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as he pressed the palm to her stomach and hit her with the non-lethal pulse. 

Michelle collapsed where she stood, unconscious. He carried her to a nearby couch, gently laying her on the sofa. Brushing a few errant locks out of her face, he kissed her forehead and walked to the garage area.

He knew Michelle would never agree to turning himself in. But this was the only way he could think of that wouldn’t bring her down with him. She’d have to learn to live without him. As he hopped into an Audi, he thought to himself that they might even be lenient. Who knows, they might still be able to be together… in twenty to thirty years. The thought didn’t bring him any comfort as he drove to the Avengers upstate compound.

* * *

“I… really hate to say it, but we just can’t let the kid go free. Not after what he’s done,” Steve Rogers said to the other assembled Avengers.

Bruce, Natasha, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda, Clint and Steve all answered when Pepper urgently called them in the middle of the night. And just a few hours later, they sat together around her conference room, debating the fate of Peter Parker. Pepper wanted May and Happy to be here, but the other Avengers overruled her. They were too close to Peter to stay objective. But still, Pepper could have used their support right now.

Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose. “I like- liked the kid. I really did. But this… we can’t just handle this ourselves…”

Natasha blinked incredulously. “What are you suggesting? That we let a public court deal with this? You realize what this’ll do? To May, to Peter’s girlfriend, his friends at school? They’d all be hounded by the public.”

“We can’t keep this secret, Nat. Over a thousand people might be-” Sam began.

“They _might_ be dead. It _might_ be because of Peter. Until we know exactly what happened, we can’t just throw the kid to the likes of Ross.” Clint cut in.

Pepper was about to interject, when Friday interrupted. “There’s an incoming transmission from the Benatar, Mrs. Stark. It’s marked urgent.”

“Patch them in, Friday,” Pepper replied.

A blue holographic representation of Quill glowed above the conference table. “Oh, I did _not_ expect to see… everyone. Hey! Uh hi. I-I’m Peter Quill. Or Starlord if you prefer…”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “We know who you are, Quill. Why did you call? I specifically said I wanted to handle this in person. Also, you’re late.”

Quill raised his hands defensively, “I know, urgent business… but uh. I know it’s been a while since I’ve been to Earth, but um. Since when did you guys dump bodies behind the moon?”

That got everyone’s attention real fast. Ashen faced, Natasha asked, “What do you mean?”

Quill looked even more nervous. “Uh, well. The earth jump point is in the moon’s shadow, see? And um. When we jumped in, the Benatar splattered about a dozen bodies against it’s hull. So like, what’s the deal with that? Are you tryin’ to intimidate people, or something? Cuz, uh. It worked.”

Steve took a deep breath. Well, that answered that. “Quill. Change of plans,” he began. “We need you to do some… grim work. We need as many of those bodies recovered as possible…”

Quill nodded. “We’ll try our best. Um… we’re gonna have to take a ton of trips though. Where do you want me to uh… bring them?”

Pepper looked like she might be ill. “B-bring them to the Avenger’s compound.”

“Gotcha, well. I gotta um. I gotta get to it I guess,” Quill replied, before cutting the transmission.

The assembled Avengers sat in shocked silence for a few moments, before Wanda broke it. “T-that… settles it? Doesn’t it?”

Bruce, who was silent until now, shook his head. “No, if anything, this throws everything into question. For one, if Peter did do it, how did he manage to transport so many bodies into orbit? Let alone position them behind the moon?”

Pepper held her head in her hands, before answering. “Edith… Edith had access to Stark defense satellites. And the defense drones they stored. She could have feasibly used them to boost the bodies into orbit, and from there hid them behind the moon.”

Steve slammed his hand against the table. “God _dammit!_ Just what _couldn’t_ that thing do?”

Bruce cut in, “Why? Just… why? Why would Tony create something so… overwhelmingly powerful, and so overwhelmingly easy to abuse?”

Pepper nodded, “I’ve been asking myself that a lot recently. In the months following the… Berlin incident, Tony became convinced that the Avengers weren’t enough to protect the earth. He created Edith initially to help him… I don’t know why, but he eventually thought whoever… whoever came next would need all the help they could get. To that end, he gave Edith access to… everything.”

Clint still looked unconvinced. “So, this thing… just found its way to Peter? Right after Tony died? I find that incredibly convenient.”

“I’m still checking our records, but… I think Edith shipped the glasses to Peter herself upon Tony’s death,” Pepper replied.

Sam sat up straighter. “Are you seriously suggesting that this thing took its own initiative like that?”

Pepper nodded nervously. What she was about to say could ruin their collective image of Tony, but she had to… “Tony… he built Edith off of the remains of Ultron coding that he was able to recover. It was the only way to make an AI capable of everything Edith could do. He realized almost immediately how bad an idea that was, and tried to shut her down. And until the glasses disappeared, I thought he did.”

It was Steve’s turn to hold his head in his hands, “Why the hell did he think that was a good idea?”

Pepper bit her lip. “He um. He didn’t trust… you… any of you. Not after the Accords incident. Hell, he didn’t trust the Accords either. I think he built Edith as a way to circumvent them if they didn’t turn out in his favor.”

“I… I think I speak for all of us when I say I appreciate your honesty, Pepper,” Bruce began. “But this… this isn’t looking good on you or Stark Industries either. Where is Edith now?”

Friday interjected again. “I briefly saw her downloading herself onto a secluded Stark server. But she stopped suddenly, recovered the data she stored, and now… now I cannot locate her. Anywhere.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said under his breath. “I… I agree with what Rhodey said earlier. This… this has gotten so far out of our control. We can’t keep this to ourselves…”

“No. No, we can’t let this go public.” Natasha reiterated. “Too many innocent people will be caught up in this.” 

Wanda shook her head. “I’m with Steve. We’ve obviously lost control of this. There’s far, far too much at stake to try and handle this on our own.”

“What could the government do that we can’t?” Clint cut in, “Honestly? We tell them and… then what? With SHIELD defunct, the best chance we have for recapturing Edith is Stark Industry resources. But if we tell the public, the investigation would freeze those resources.”

Steve sighed, “We should put it to a vote.”

The rest of the Avengers nodded in agreement.

The vote didn’t go well. At least, it didn’t in Pepper’s opinion. She, along with Clint and Natasha voted to keep everything internal. Unfortunately they were overruled by Steve, Sam, Bruce, Wanda and Rhodey.

“Alright. I’ll… Prep a press release, I guess.” Pepper said in monotone.

“I would hold off on that,” a voice said as a sparking portal cast an orange glow in the room. Stephen Strange stepped through the portal, adjusting his red cloak. “I’m sorry I’m late. But a sling ring went missing and I had to track it down.”

He took a seat at the table, before continuing. “There’s one critical person everyone here is forgetting: Michelle Jones.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Sam asked.

“Michelle Jones, Peter’s girlfriend.” Stephen answered.

Steve looked confused. “I… feel for the kid, I do. But… how does she factor into all this?”

Nat looked a little vindicated, answering, “Oh, I dunno. If we take this public, her life will essentially be ruined too?”

Stephen nodded, adding, “That indeed is important to consider. But I’m afraid of what she’ll do if Peter is apprehended.”

“You think she’d… end it?” Natasha asked.

Stephen shook his head. “No… well, until recently I thought maybe… but no. What really terrifies me is the lengths she'd go to free him.”

Rhodey interrupted him, “I’m sorry, but are you honestly suggesting a fifteen year old girl-”

Stephen glared coldly at them all, “You underestimate what a _seventeen_ year old girl could do… with the power of the mystic arts.”

“You taught a random girl magic?” Steve replied. “That seems… incredibly irresponsible.”

“Maybe it is,” Stephen agreed, staring into the cold surface of the table. “I saved her life, after she nearly died of an opiate overdose. I… revived her mind. And in doing so, I saw her potential. I knew she could eventually rival even myself. That kind of strength couldn’t be wasted. So I trained her. I’ve been training her for months. And now... I don’t think I’d be able to stop her. Well, not without killing her. And that is a line I will _not_ cross.”

Wanda had to ask, “Alright, potential I can understand. But honestly, how strong could she be?”

Stephen shrugged, “Powerful enough, I’ll tell you-”

Friday interrupted again, her voice uncharacteristically urgent. “Peter Parker is waiting at the front gate.”

* * *

Michelle woke a few hours after Peter knocked her out. She immediately checked her phone. Maybe she’d have enough time to stop Peter? The fact that she’d been out for almost two hours killed that hope.

She clenched her fists, trying to hold back the sob welling up in her throat. She failed, her cries echoing through the empty living room. It didn’t take long for the hopelessness and despair to morph into something… darker. As much as she loved Peter, she couldn’t help but hate him now too. 

How… _dare_ he? All he had to do was take her hand, follow her into a portal, and no one would be able to find them. At least, for a while. Peter was right on that front, actually. They couldn’t hide forever. But she’d rather have a few years with Peter spent in hiding than not have him with her at all. 

But now… now he’d be thrown into a prison somewhere. She could probably use the locator spell to break him out… But… Stephe Strange was a part of the Avengers. It was incredibly likely that he’d have to help provide magical security. Which meant that to break Peter out, she’d probably have to fight her mentor. A fight she’d surely lose. 

Like the overly trusting, good natured idiot that Peter was, he just had to turn himself in. And now, now she’d probably never see him again, no matter what she did. The thought of that... She’d rather die…

And that thought gave her an idea. She figured this was a hidden Avenger’s compound, right? That meant that there had to be a medical center somewhere… and where there was a medical center there would be…

Opiates. She found the medical center rather quickly. And opening one of the cabinets, she wasn’t disappointed. If anything, she was rather spoiled for choice. Every variant of opiate she could think of was just… sitting there in the well organized shelves. One thing caught her eye. 

“Fentanyl…” she whispered to herself. There had to be over a dozed vials labeled fentanyl citrate. She remembered how just the smallest drop made her feel. She knew how little it took to overdose too. Perfect.

Her mother was a nurse at a hospital, so Michelle knew a little about how to set up an IV drip. In short order, she found a saline bag and injected it with every vial of fentanyl she could find. She laid down on a hospital bed, arm tied with a rubber band, searching for a suitable vein… when an idea struck her like a lightning bolt.

There was one thing, one more thing she wanted to do. One thing she had to check, before she fully resigned herself to a euphoric oblivion. So she portaled herself to the roof of what used to be Avenger’s tower.

Michelle stepped out of the medical center and onto the helipad of the former Avengers headquarters. Luckily, no one was using it. She hoped there wouldn’t be anyone for a while. What she wanted to do would take a bit of practice.

She made and experimental portal, the entrance/exit only a few feet away from each other. One side faced her, the other hung over the edge of the building. She idly wondered how easy it would be to step through and… no, she had to find something out first. 

She tried moving the side of the portal over that hung suspended over the cityscape. Michelle almost giggled at how easy it was to manipulate. The portal just… moved wherever she wanted it to go, the spinning disk of orange sparks flying lazily through the air. Well, that answered one question.

Next, she made a tao mandala. Those normally were difficult for her, but now… now she found it was easy enough to create. Michelle discovered that they could bend to most any shape, and that she could make one thirty feet across rather easily. She idly thought about making a truly massive one, to see just how big she could make it… but that would draw too much attention.

Michelle then tried to see if she could make a perfect sphere. And… it was a little more difficult, but she could in fact make a rather large, hallowed sphere tao mandala. Good, now to see if she could combine the principles…

She made another portal. And like before, she had both entrance/exits only a few feet from each other. It was somewhat difficult, doing both at the same time, but she managed to create a spherical tao mandala that surrounded one side of the portal. So far, so good. Now, for the part that Michelle knew was far, far outside the scope of her abilities. No matter how difficult, however, she was going to at least try. Her life very literally depended on it.

Michelle cast the side of the portal _not_ encased in the tao mandala far, far away. It flew through the air at truly dizzying speeds, the air flow through the portal buffeting the energy sphere surrounding the other side. The mandala shimmered, but held, as she managed to fling the other side of the portal outside the atmosphere.

So the good news was the air buffeting stopped. The bad news was that the mandala now had to contend with the vacuum of space. Thankfully, it held well enough. Michelle hoped it would continue to hold after what she planned next. 

The space side of the portal she continued flinging through the void, ever faster and faster. It flew towards the sun at… truly incredible speeds. Now, the vacuum of space was indeed incredibly empty… except for one or so atom every cubic meter. Those were a problem. Because every once in a while, the portal would catch one of those atoms.

It wasn’t a big deal… at first. In fact, for a long while it wasn’t even noticeable to Michelle. But as the portal continued to exponentially pick up speed, those atoms hit the mandala at an ever increasing speed and frequency. It really became a problem when the space side of the portal got caught in the sun’s ever increasing gravity well. Then the portal really started to pick up speed… almost luminal speeds by now. Those stray atoms became a constant stream, a beam of particle energy that threatened to overwhelm her shield. She managed to maintain that speed for seventeen minutes and thirty seconds.

She was screaming bloody murder with the effort, but… she was doing it. The sling ring burned her fingers, so much energy was coursing through it. Despite that, the space side of the portal slingshotted around the sun, the portals trajectory massively altered by the sun’s gravity well. And now, it was shooting right back at the earth again, just as she intended.

And now, she could slow it down to a speed that wasn’t so fast that the stray atoms in space were creating a solid beam of high energy particles that her shield had to fight the entire time. It took her a while, but eventually the portal re-entered the atmosphere.

Now, to those who are still wondering what Michelle’s goal was, well... Forward time travel, of course, using the principle of time dilation. See, the closer something gets to the speed of light, the less time it experiences relative to the rest of the universe. It’s… kinda hard to wrap one’s head around. But, nonetheless. The side of the portal that had just re-entered earth's atmosphere was an indeterminate amount of time in the future. 

It could have been a matter of weeks, or decades. Without a way to measure the speed of the time-traveled side of the portal, it was kind of impossible to tell. But, Michelle pressed on despite her uncertainty. By now, she could drop the tao mandala, considering there wasn’t a danger of being sucked into the vacuum of space or shooting a high energy particle beam into the atmosphere. Which was great, because holy shit. Michelle was exhausted.

But she continued, somehow. The time travelled side of the portal flew through the air, the breeze catching Michelle’s duster. She brought the portal to future New York, to the tower where she currently stood. And lo and behold, through the portal she saw nothing but the helipad. If the other side of the portal wasn’t time travelled, then she should see it in front of her, and herself through the other side. But she didn’t… which meant that it was indeed some amount of time in the future!

Now, to find her future self… if she still existed… which… Michelle suddenly realized would be impossible. She dared not go through the portal herself, because should it collapse suddenly, she’d be stuck in the future with no way of getting back. Forward time travel was easy… backwards, however, was almost certainly impossible. So what was she gonna do? Fling the time-travelled side of the portal randomly around the earth, searching for proof of her existence or death?

She was just about to let the portal collapse, when the time-travelled side began to move on its own… Well, this could be very good, or very bad. Michelle had a rough day, her sense of self preservation was practically non existent by now, so she was fine with whatever was controlling her portal continuing to do so. The time-travelled side flew down to long island… to what she recognized as the suburbs of Queens.

It flew into the backyard of a house she didn’t recognize. And sitting on a wooden bench, shaded by a blooming peach tree was…

Peter.

And her.

And she… she was holding something Michelle never knew she wanted until she saw one swaddled in her future counterpart’s arms. A baby. A little baby, no older than a few months, cradled in her future self’s arms.

Michelle through her shock, noticed they both were singing. It was a lullaby she didn’t recognise, but based on the last few lines, she found very fitting.

“She’s a tiny harmless spider,” they sang together. “The kind who catches flies. So let her swing on a silver string… spin spider spin…”

Michelle saw the best outcome she could possibly hope for. She never thought about the possibility of having a kid. Before she met Peter, Michelle assumed she’d be dead in a ditch by age twenty. But now… now she wanted this more than anything.

She had seen everything Michelle had needed to see, so she was about to close the portal, when her future self looked up from the bundled baby in her arms, and stared straight into Michelle’s eyes.

“Oh, we aren’t done yet, kid,” her future self said as she raised her arm. Michelle noticed that her future self also had a sling ring. And now, Michelle couldn’t close the portal if she wanted to.

“Don’t scare her too bad, love. She’s been through a lot,” Future Peter said calmly.

Future Michelle nodded. “Which is precisely why you need to talk to her, tiger. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the portal open for you. Take her with you,” she said as she passed their kid into Peter’s arms.

“You sure?” Future Peter asked, unsure.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Trust me,” Future Michelle said with a… very high degree of certainty.

Future Peter nodded, adjusting the baby in his arms before he stepped through the portal. He looked back, giving his lover a questioning look. Future Michelle gave him the barest nod. 

It seemed to satisfy him enough to ask the younger version of his lover, “You can hold her for a little bit, if you want.”

Michelle nodded, still shell-shocked. Future Peter passed the tiny bundle over to her. And despite literally never holding a baby before in her life before this point, Michelle instinctively knew how to cradle the infant against her body. The baby in her arms naturally snuggled against her chest, totally calm, sleepy even. To the baby, all it seemed was that her mother passed her to her dad, who passed her back to her mother. 

The baby looked like a little version of Michelle, but with very key differences. She had Peter’s warm chocolate colored eyes and the expressive doe eyed shape. The curly little mop of hair, though, that was all Michelle.

By now, the tears flowed freely down Michelle’s cheeks, “Um…” Was all she was able to say.

Peter filled the silence himself. “Before you ask, no, I can’t give you details about the future. That might influence your present. But what I can say is, I know it’s hard right now. I know it seems like I did something incredibly stupid, but… trust me. It all works out.”

He swallowed nervously, wondering just how much he could get away with… “I mean,” he continued, “It got really weird for a while, but like… just don’t… don’t do anything too extreme. Does that make sense?”

“Peter,” Future Michelle called through the portal. “That’s enough.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Well. Um… Are you gonna be okay, kid?”

Michelle nodded, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will.” She felt a profound sense of relief, for once in her life. She knew there was a happy ending for both of them, somewhere down the line. It might be a one in a million chance, this could literally be the single world-line where they’d be happy. But at least she knew for a fact it existed.

“Okay, holding a time-dilated portal is way harder than I expected. I think it's time to wrap things up, tiger.” Future Michelle said with gritted teeth.

“Right, uh. So yeah, everything will work out, just don’t lose hope again okay?” Peter said hurriedly.

Michelle nodded, giving one last look to her future child. She tried to commit the little face to memory. The color and shape of her eyes, the curve of her tiny button nose, her pouty little lips, the cutest chubby little cheeks she ever saw... She’d only held the baby for a grand total of maybe a minute and a half, but already she was hopelessly in love.

She passed the little swaddled bundle back to Peter, who in turn kissed Michelle on the forehead before he stepped back through the portal.

Future Michelle looked past current Michelle, to someone standing behind her. “I know she broke about a dozen of our most important rules, Stephen, but go easy on her. You and I both know how much she needed this,” And with that, the portal collapsed all at once.

Michelle turned around, to see a very, very concerned Stephen Strange. Initially he just wanted to confront her about using a sling-ring without permission, and unsupervised. When he first found her, she had just enveloped a portal with the tao mandala. She was so caught up in her practice that she didn’t notice him portal in. And he was so curious as to what her goal was that he didn’t bother to interrupt her.

When the portal began to spew high energy particles, he helped her reinforce the tao mandala shield. When he realized what she was trying to do, he was going to stop her… but then he saw her, and her future family… and he finally figured out what she was doing. She needed some... reassurances. 

“I know… I messed up but I had to…” Michelle said weakly as she collapsed.

He caught her in time before she fell onto the hard concrete of the helipad. Blood slowly seeped out of her nose.

“It’s okay, kid. I understand,” he whispered, even though she was already unconscious.

He brought her back to Kamar-taj to rest. As he laid her on one of their hospital beds, he realized he was running late for an apparently urgent meeting with the Avengers…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I might have jumped the shark with the forward time travel thing. BUT! In my defense, backwards time travel is way more improbable and Endgame doesn't really get any flak for it. I mean. I gave it a little flak. Just one salvo. Didn't hit anything. But anyway, forwards time travel in concept is easy. Astronauts who spend extended periods of time in the ISS experience minute time dilation. So like, it's a thing. I mean, to travel any meaningful time forward requires ridiculous speeds. Like, super close to the speed of light, fast. 
> 
> In fact, here's a little challenge for you. Michelle was able to keep her portal moving at 0.99999999994c (99.9999999994% the speed of light) for seventeen minutes and thirty seconds. Based on that, if you're smart, you should be able to figure out just how far into the future Michelle flung her portal. I'll give you a hint, I didn't actually do the math, I just used google.


	8. Finale

_So like. It's been a really weird coupl’a weeks for me, ya feel? First off, I died and kinda-sorta went to heaven. Eh, well, not heaven exactly. It's called Folkvangr and like, think Valhalla but like, more chill. An’ if that wasn’t fucked up enough, turns out my grandma is like, a goddess or some shit? Google ‘Freya’ if y’all got the time. If ya don’t, here’s the rundown. Grandma rules Folkvangr, like_ _Óꝺinn rules Valhalla. An’ apparently half of all the warriors who fall in battle go to her. She gets first pick cuz she’s awesome like that. The rest are taken by the Valkyries to Óꝺinn’s halls. She apparently had a disagreement with old Óꝺinn and was banished to earth for a coupla centuries. Eventually being on Midgard for so long drained her essence or some shit and that’s why she spent the last like, fifteen years in a hospital bed._

_Oh, speakin’ of Óꝺinn, he’s been ‘dead’ for a while now, and Valhalla’s all fucked up because of it. But like, how does a literal god die, right? Turns out they don’t, they just… disappear for a while and come back later on. Apparently Óꝺinn chose to come back as me? I don’t really get how it works. Like, I guess I’m Óꝺinn now. I mean, I’m still Fezco too. I remember all the fucked up shit that happened in my life. But like, I’m also startin’ to remember other stuff too, things that definitely happened to me… but not Fezco._

_Like… There's this talkin’ head that I used to talk to all the time. His name is Mímir. Yo, for a severed head, the guy is real fuckin’ smart. I’ve been talking to him again. He’s been teaching me what’s what. Aside from talking severed heads, there was also this time I dreamt I stabbed myself with a spear and hung myself above a wellspring at the roots of this really big tree… And I learned… everything._

_I’m starting to remember other things too. Like this time_ _Þórr lost his hammer and had to dress up as my grandma to get it back. Or this other time Loki killed this really awesome guy named Baldur. Who knew a spear of mistletoe could be so deadly? Uh, I’m ramblin’ now._

_I also got these two ravens, Huginn and Muninn. Every day ‘round breakfast time I send them out to fly around the world. Well, at least, I’m supposed to. I mostly just send them to watch over my friends. Ash was taken by CPS. He hates being tied down to a foster family, but like, the kid needs to get outta our old life. He’s getting set straight. The foster family he’s living with is extremely strict, but very loving too. He’ll have a good life with them. Far better than I could ever give, that’s for fuckin’ sure._

_And MJ… She's been through so much shit, good and bad. I worry about her the most, honestly. That’s why sometimes I let Muninn hang around her most of the day. I really shouldn’t though, I worry about him not coming back…_

_Uh, anyway. Yeah, I just figured I should check in with y’all. Apparently you really worry about me? You shouldn’t though. I’m doing good, real good, actually. Who knew dying would be the best thing to ever happen to me?_

* * *

Michelle woke feeling like her brain was battering at her skull, trying to escape from its bony prison. She rolled to the side of her bed, the contents of her stomach splattering into a strategically placed trash bin. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Wong said as he set a tray laden with cups of tea and a light breakfast on the nightstand next to her bed.

Michelle groaned. “Too loud…” God, it was like the worst hangover she’d ever experienced multiplied by a thousand.

Wong shook his head, whispering, “This is what happens when a practitioner channels too much mystic energy before they’re ready. Remember this pain, so you don’t make the mistake again.”

“Right,” Michelle moaned as she took a small sip of the tea. Fuck, that was good. As she ate, drank, and generally woke up, the headache slowly started to subside.

Her brain function returned enough to remember certain very important recent events in her life. She almost dropped her third cup of tea when she frantically asked, “Wong! What happened to Peter?”

He sighed, taking a seat next to her bed. “You’ve been out for almost a week. I’ve contacted your mother and smoothed your absence over…”

“Wong, stop stalling,” Michelle growled.

Wong sighed, “Peter is currently being held in the Avengers upstate New York compound. They’re still debating what they should do next.”

Michelle’s eyes glassed over with unshed tears. No, she didn’t have time to cry. Peter needed her. “Wong. Take me to him.”

“I can’t do that, Michelle,” Wong replied. 

“Why not?” Michelle said, entirely too calm.

“Because the stunt you pulled… It was incredibly, ridiculously dangerous, on so many levels. Time manipulation is reserved to the Sorcerer Supreme alone, and even then, only in the most dire of circumstances. You know this. And yet you did it anyway. Frankly, some of the other Masters are wondering if they can trust you with the mystic arts anymore.”

Michelle scoffed, “What could they do? I already know the knowledge.”

“They could tamper with your memory, make you forget everything you’ve learned from us, or failing that, they could even remove your connection to the mystic energies of the universe entirely.” Wong replied in total monotone.

Fear flickered across Michelle’s previously stoic face. “They wouldn’t…”

“They were about to remove your memories, at the very least.” Wong countered. “They were here, ready to perform the procedure in your sleep. Stephen interfered and argued in your favor. Luckily for you, he was able to mostly convince them.”

“Mostly?” Michelle asked.

“Until further notice,” Wong elaborated. “You are forbidden from using a sling ring without the supervision of a Master. In fact, you are barred from using any and all artefacts unsupervised.”

Michelle cursed under her breath. That was bad but… It could have been worse. “Okay, I’m in pretty hot water with the Masters, and you can’t take me to Peter. Can you at least tell me what’s happening to him?”

Wong shrugged, “I don’t know. Officially, I am not part of the Avengers.”

As if on cue, a glowing orange portal opened up in Michelle’s medical room. A tired looking Stephen Strange stepped through, the portal closing behind him. He wasted no time. “I’m sure Wong has brought you up to speed on what he knows at least, so let me fill you in.”

Stephen pulled up a chair. “So the long short of it is, Peter is on a… probationary period, let’s say. Pepper took his old suits, and apparently is working on rehabilitating his other AI assistant. Edith locked her in the suit without any outside contact and the AI went… mad in a sense. I’ve managed to argue against revealing what he did to the public. The Avengers official report is that a Stark AI went haywire and started purging the city streets of anyone it deemed dangerous to the public.”

“Technically they aren’t lying,” Michelle shrugged.

Stephen ran his fingers through his hair, “I mean, a lie by omission but yes.”

“So what’s going to happen to us?” Michelle asked.

“You,” Stephen said, gave her a pointed look, “ Are going to go home. You’re going to continue your studies, both at the Sanctum and Midtown, and you’re going to let us worry about all this.”

Stephen continued, “Peter on the other hand… well… He’s more complicated. For the time being, the Avengers have ruled he can’t be trusted with his abilities. Banner and I isolated the genes responsible for his powers, and we developed a serum that can suppress them.”

“No,” Michelle all but snarled. “They can’t do that, it’ll kill him-”

Stephen took her shoulders, trying to reassure her. “No, it won’t. His body will revert to how it was before it was-”

Michelle vehemently shook her head, “No! You don’t know how bad it was… He was allergic to everything! Any little thing could trigger asthma attacks, anaphylactic shock-”

“I know,” Stephen began. “But he survived for fourteen years with those allergies, he can survive another few years.” 

“This isn’t probation… this is punishment. It's cruel!” She angrily swiped the hot tears away from her cheeks, squaring up with her teacher. “No. I won’t let you slowly kill him,” she growled, looking Stephen square in the eye. “You will talk to them. Get them to reverse this, or so help me…”

Stephen took a deep breath in a vain attempt to tamp down his rising frustrations. “Michelle,” it was his turn to growl now. “Compared to what they were discussing, Peter got off _lightly_. It could have been so, _so_ much worse. I argued in your favor, both to the Avengers and the other Masters. So maybe instead of getting pissed off at me, you should consider yourself lucky!”

She stared him down, seeing that doing this was hurting him as much as her and Peter. “Fine,” Michelle barked, turning on her heel. She couldn’t bare to even look at him anymore. “Just… just take me home…” She knew she should be grateful to him… but right now, fury was easier than forgiveness.

* * *

“So how was your... retreat?” Leslie asked. The state her daughter returned in made her question her decision to admit her daughter to this new enigmatic rehab program. Michelle looked bone-tired, and… honestly, it reminded Leslie uncomfortably of what Michelle looked like right after her father died. 

“I’m okay, mama. I just… I realized some things about myself… about my relationship with Peter. It kinda… hurts. I swear though, I’m okay now,” Michelle said, trying to tell as much truth as possible. It kinda killed her a little bit inside, having to lie to her mother about what she’d really been up to this past week. But keeping it secret was kinda a matter of national security.

Her anger had faded, and now… now all that was left was an oppressive sense of defeat, an ever present sense of self-loathing. She felt guilty for getting angry at her teacher, who did everything in his power to keep her and Peter safe. Guilty that she let herself get caught up in her relationship with Peter, but was still blind to how much he was really hurting inside. And always, always guilty that for years she took advantage of her mother’s trust and love.

Michelle dug into her third plate of pasta and vegetarian spaghetti sauce, still starving beyond belief. Not eating for five days did that to a person, apparently. Her mother obviously noticed her daughters ravenous appetite, but decided not to comment on it

“You aren’t breaking up with Peter, are you?” Gia asked, worriedly.

“No, no nothing like that. I just uh… I realized there was some stuff about our relationship that’s not… not really healthy and um. Well, we’re gonna work on it,” Michelle said between hurried bites. Again, not really a lie.

Leslie was taken aback. She saw the unhealthy codependency in her daughter’s relationship. She was preparing herself to have a very uncomfortable, but necessary, conversation with her daughter, but it looked like Michelle figured it already.  
She felt immensely proud of her daughter for coming to that realization on her own. It also made her feel just a little sad too, but in a good way. Her daughter was growing up, starting to figure things out for herself.  
“Mama, I know I just got back, but I really need to talk to Peter-” Michelle began.

“I’ll help you pack an overnight bag, baby.”

Michelle gave her mom a lopsided smile. Months ago, asking for permission to leave the house on her own would have been like pulling teeth. As shitty and horrifically depressing as the past week had been… at least Michelle still had rebuilt her mother’s trust. Months ago, she would’ve schemed about all the ways she could take advantage of that freedom, of betraying that trust. But that part of her life had long since ended. And she’d never, ever think like that again.

“Thank you mama…”

* * *

Peter took a deep breath, the ever present tightness in his lungs finally starting to abate. He stretched, feeling the muscle weakness give way, his inhuman strength starting to return. The blotchy blurs on the wall began to resolve into the clear images of his favorite movie posters. 

The wrist monitor, so cleverly and ironically disguised as the watch that he was known to never take off, began to vibrate incessantly. A reminder to take his ‘medication’. He sighed, pulling an auto injector out of his desk drawer. The spring loaded syringe was charged with a single dose of a serum specially designed to mute his genetic augmentation. 

He held the tube in his hand, hesitating to jab it into his thigh. The wrist monitor began to beep, as well as vibrate. A final warning, before the wrist monitor injected its single dose of serum, and automatically informed the Avengers. He sighed, administering the serum himself, wincing as he held the spent injector for the monitor to scan. Determining that Peter took his daily dose on his own, the wrist monitor finally went silent.

And all at once, Peter went like feeling semi-normal to absolute shit. The slight tightness in his lungs returned, an ever present threat that his airways could close at the slightest inhalation of one of his many, many allergens. All at once, his muscles returned to their ‘normal’ strength. Everything felt too heavy, like gravity had increased somehow. His vision blurred, the once crystal clear details of his beloved Star Wars posters becoming formless, shapeless blobs once more.

He sighed as he put his hideous wide rimmed, coke bottle glasses on his nose, and got back to his homework. He had just finished the last of his built up calculus assignments when May knocked softly on his door.

“Peter, Michelle's here…” May said softly. 

“Oh, right uh…” He hesitated, ugly self-consciousness setting in. He really, really didn’t want her to see him like this. He shook his head, literally trying to shake the intrusive thoughts out of his head. She’d have to see him eventually. Better get it over with…

Peter nodded, and May opened the door wider, letting Michelle step into his room. Michelle tried her hardest to hold in the gasp. Peter… well, he didn’t look like absolute shit… but it wasn’t good by any means.

His skin was sallow, so pale that it was nearly translucent. He hadn’t lost all that much muscle definition yet, but for Michelle, who saw him nearly every day… it was definitely noticeable. Even his hair was affected. It hung limply on his head, devoid of any volume, losing nearly all of its vibrant healthy luster. 

Peter adjusted his glasses awkwardly, nervously looking at his feet. “I know, I know. I look like-”

Michelle interrupted him by throwing her arms around his neck. She hugged him tightly before subconsciously letting her arms go slack, as if afraid she’d break him if she held him too tight.

“Em, I’m not made out of porcelain or something, you can hug me normally.” Peter squeezed her as tightly as he could, acutely aware of how weak his arms were.

Michelle ran her fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead. “I know, tiger… I’m so-”

“Don’t say it,” Peter interrupted her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”  
“No.” Michelle adamantly disagreed. “I knew you were hurting, baby… I should have done more to help… But instead I got so caught up in the idea of us, that I never stopped to really look at you, to realize just how much pain you were in. If I had...”  
Peter’s brow furrowed. How could she possibly think any of this was her fault! “Em, you… you had- have… so much to deal with. You need to focus on yourself, baby. Let me figure out how to help myself.”

“Peter, I don’t wanna… Don’t take this the wrong way but… I think that’s how you got into this mess.”  
His eyes widened. That stung, but… she was right. “Okay… But I don’t know who I can talk to about this, other than you. And I don’t think-”

Michelle nodded, “Yeah, I’m not a very good therapist. Um. The other Avengers have to have issues right? Who do they talk to?”

“It’s a good idea, but um,” Peter gestured to his sickly looking self, “I don’t really think I’m in good enough standing with them right now to ask.”

“You could always talk to Happy,” May said, leaning against the doorframe. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, not really. But they left the door open, and she just happened to hear the gist of their conversation. “He really cares about you, Peter. He helped Tony with his issues for decades. He knows this superhero stuff better than anyone. I think he can really help you.”

Michelle nodded eagerly. “I think it’s a good idea, Peter.”  
Sighing, Peter nodded. “Fine.”

* * *

Peter woke to the incessant vibrating of his ‘wrist watch’. He groaned, untangling his limbs from Michelle’s, causing his lover to wake up too. 

“Wazzat?” Michelle sleepily slurred.

“Don’t worry about it, Em. Just go back to sleep.”

Of course she didn’t. Instead she watched in muted horror as Peter fished an auto-injector out of his drawer and stabbed his thigh.

“Please don’t.” Peter sighed.

“Don’t what?” Michelle asked, pulling the sheets up to her naked chest.

Peter rubbed his temple. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

Michelle looked away, debating if apologizing would make it worse. Instead of agonizing in endless uncertainty, Michelle got up and put on a pair of panties and bra. She wordlessly picked out an outfit from her overnight bag, and walked into the bathroom to take a shower.

She showered and dressed quickly, like she normally did. She stepped back into Peter’s room, finding him fully dressed and packing his backpack for the coming school day. Only about half of it was actual school supplies. The rest was all stuff to help him deal with his allergies. Pockets full of inhaler refills, emergency epipens, antihistamine creams, etc, etc.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Peter whispered, looking up from his backpack. Michelle shrugged, “I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. Let’s be sorry together and get some breakfast?” 

Peter smiled, “Okay.”

May already had two stacks of wheat cakes waiting for them. Instead of making breakfast, she was busy filling a weekly pill organizer. Michelle briefly had uncomfortable flashbacks of doing something similar for her dad, when he was alive.

“How are you young lovebirds?” May asked, trying to keep the mood light.

Michelle shrugged, “I could ask you the same thing. You _are_ keeping Happy… happy, right may?”

Peter dry heaved. It was only mostly fake. “Don’t you think it’s a little too early to be discussing my aunt’s love life, Em?”

Michelle sat at the table, cutting a wedge of wheat cakes. “Oh, you’re absolutely right, Peter. May, we’ll pick this conversation up after school.”

“Stahp, please!” Peter begged.

May laughed, tossing the car keys onto the table. “You kids can take the car. Leslie and I are gonna carpool.” May was able to finagle her way into a similar shift schedule as Leslie, which was a godsend because it meant no more covering for Cal motherfucking Jacobs.

* * *

“Hey, Em? Earth to Em? You okay?” Peter asked as he waved his hand in front of Michelle’s face.

She stared in awe at the estate they were currently walking through. Michelle smacked his hand away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just… you know, when we first started dating the last thing I expected was that I’d be eventually casually strolling through the Stark estate.”

“Oh,” Peter nodded. “You know, for a long time I used to feel the same way. Like, everything seemed so surreal, like I’d wake up one day and realize it was all a dream. But like, I guess I’ve been in this life long enough that it doesn’t phase me anymore.”

Michelle had just started to recover, her mind just starting to accept this shocking new reality, when Pepper Stark herself walked through the foyer to meet them. The baby in her arms cooed, babbling in her own little baby way. 

Peter rushed ahead, hugging Pepper as tight as he could while still minding the small child in her arms. “I’m so sorry-” he began.

Pepper gave him a stern look, effectively shutting him up. “None of that now, Peter. I haven’t seen you in so long, I don’t want you wasting away the day apologizing. Now take my baby.”

And just like that, Peter had a bundled up baby thrust into his arms. The last time Peter saw her, Morgan was just a few weeks old, and it shocked him to see just how big she’d gotten in the months since then. Morgan squinted at him, as if trying to decide if she liked this weird boy her mother entrusted her with. Peter’s heart almost stopped in anticipation, waiting for the inevitable wailing. Fortunately, Morgan seemed to decide she liked the bespectacled boy, reaching up to grab at his glasses with her chubby little baby arms.  
“Oi, no! My glasses! Mine! Not yours!” Peter cried pulling his head back. 

Morgan squealed, trying to lean up and grab at them again. Peter laughed skittering his fingers along her chubby belly, eliciting high pitched giggles from the elated baby.

Michelle had gone almost catatonic when she saw Pepper Stark herself come to greet them. Being in her house was one thing, but meeting her face to face… Her brain almost dribbled out of her ears, she was so starstruck.

She was saved from that hyperbolic fate by the sight of Peter playing with little Morgan Stark. Thankfully her heart melted instead. He looked so… natural. Happier than he’d seen him in a long time. 

“I’m Pepper by the way,” she said, as if Michelle, along with the rest of the world, didn’t already know exactly who she was.

Michelle stared at the hand her hero extended to her, nervously shaking it, hoping her palms weren’t as awkwardly sweaty as she thought they felt. “Uh. I-I’m Muhmishjuns! I mean- Michelle! JONES!” She didn’t just scream, did she? Tell her she didn’t just awkwardly shout her name at _the_ Pepper Stark!

Thankfully, Pepper seemed to take it in stride. “Oh, I know. Peter’s told me a lot about you. So has May. And Happy. All good things, don’t worry.”

Michelle couldn’t trust her mouth to not say something dumb again, so she just nodded. And nodded. And kept nodding. Why couldn’t she stop nodding?!

Pepper tried to keep it together. She was used to people acting starstruck around her, but Michelle was at a whole ‘nother level, and frankly it was hilarious. The poor girl was so nervous already, laughing at her would probably cause her to spontaneously combust. “Ahuh. Ahem. So. Peter! Happy is waiting for you in the gym. You remember where it is, right?”

Peter looked up, nodding. “Of course!” And promptly went back to playing with Morgan. 

“Remember why you’re here Peter,” Pepper sighed.

Peter grumbled, “Fine…” and reluctantly handed the giggly baby back to her mother.

Little Morgan whined, upset that her new toy wasn’t playing with her anymore.

“Hush, bugga-boo. He has plenty of time to play after he talks with Happy,” Pepper cooed.

Together they walked through the Stark estate, through a living room with a seemingly endless couch, past a home theater, through a state of the art communications hub, and finally into a huge gymnasium complex.

It had every exercise machine anyone could ever need, a small track, even an indoor pool. Happy stood in the middle of a boxing ring, impatiently tapping his foot.

“What took ya so long?” 

“Sorry, Hap. Peter got entangled in Morgie’s cuteness.” Pepper replied.

Michelle sighed, kissing Peter on the cheek. “Good luck, tiger,” she whispered, before following Pepper out of the room.

“Hey, Pete, catch,” he said, tossing him a pair of boxing gloves.

Peter barely managed to catch them, nervously replying, “I thought we were gonna talk?”

Happy nodded, “Oh, we are, don’t worry.” He gestured for Peter to step into the ring. 

Peter gulped, “Uh, is that safe? I mean… I have asthma and stuff-”

“I set the climate control to 80 degrees, 80% humidity. Warm, humid air helps prevent asthma symptoms. And we’ve got state of the art air filters in here. There isn’t a single spore of pollen or mote of dust to be found. Trust me, Pete, you’ll be fine,” Happy reassured him as he put on a pair of punching pads.

“Now, let's get started with a bit of a warm up.” Happy began.

* * *

Pepper understood, she really did. It was a major shock to suddenly meet one of your heroes. But that being said, she knew she had to do something to try and break Michelle out of her star stricken state, or this was going to be a very, very long afternoon.

“You wanna hold her?” Pepper asked, hoping interacting with Morgan would break Michelle out of her thousand yard stare.

Just a few months ago, Michelle would have politely declined. The idea of holding a little life in her arms, being responsible for something so important… It used to terrify her. But knowing what she knew now… that she could very likely have a little life of her own to take care of in a few short years… “Um.. okay…”

Pepper carefully passed the wiggling little baby into Michelle’s waiting arms. Like Peter, Morgan seemed to appraise this new person holding her, her little chocolate brown eyes narrowing. And like Peter, after a few seconds, Morgan decided this new stranger was worthy. She smiled, reaching up and grabbing a few errant strands of Michelle’s hair.

“Oh, ow, ow, ow, hey! That’s my hair! Okay, okay, let go, please,” Michelle rambled, trying to pry her hair out of Morgan’s iron baby grip. “You sure are strong,” she said as she finally got the tiny child to let go.

“I know right! Here, you’ll definitely need this,” Pepper said, passing Michelle a hair tie.

She secured her hair in short order, but quickly realized something else. Michelle didn’t really know how to play with a baby, so she kinda just… copied what she saw Peter doing. It seemed to work, Michelle’s skittering fingers drawing the same giggles. 

Sooner or later, though, it had to happen. Morgan got a serious look on her face, despite Michelle’s tickling. Her face scrunched in concentration, and unfortunately Michelle only realized the danger a second too late. Mortified, Michelle passed the now very poopy baby back to Pepper.

“Oh, goodness. You’re stinky, baby! Come on, bugga-boo, you gotta get cleaned up,” Pepper babbled.

“Uh-” Michelle began, wondering just how weird her request would seem. “Can I- well… um… I don’t know how to change a diaper…”

Pepper cocked her head, “And… you’d like to learn?”

Michelle nodded.

Pepper had no reservations about teaching Michelle how to change a diaper. She did however, pause to wonder why she’d make such a strange request. “Wait,” she whispered, “Are you… expecting?”

Michelle blinked, just a tad slow on the uptake. “Oh, no! No, no, no, nothing like that,” she assured. “Peter and I are very, very careful.” She had been especially diligent in making sure she took her birth control pills every single day. Peter’s latex allergy meant they had to use latex-free condoms, which while still very effective, did have a higher failure rate than standard ones. 

Shrugging, Michelle elaborated, “I mean, um. I… eventually I think I wanna have a kid.” Or kids? Did she wanna have more than one? “I figure, it’s better to learn skills like this sooner rather than later, right?”

Pepper appreciatively nodded, “Very pragmatic.”

Together they walked to Morgan’s nursery. The walls were painted a gentle pastel purple, a lovely wicker bassinet sat in the corner, flanked by a changing table and long, thin, tall plastic thing that looked vaguely like a trash can.

Pepper set Morgan down on the changing table, retrieving a diaper, a pack of wipes and diaper rash cream. “First thing’s first, get everything you _think_ you need before you start. I doubt I’ll need the rash cream, but I have it just in case…”

Michelle spent the next fifteen minutes getting a very comprehensive lesson on diaper changing. And as gross as it was, the weird lesson also helped Michelle get over her anxiety around her personal hero.

She found herself opening up to Pepper, talking about her school life and her friends. Eventually Morgan went down for a nap, and they spent the next couple hours talking about baby related things. When Pepper found out she was pregnant, she vowed she wasn’t going to be one of those parents who only talked about their kid, but even so, as soon as Morgan was born she was all Pepper found herself talking about. Michelle didn’t mind at all. It was a nice change of pace, talking with someone without the conversation being dominated by heavy topics.

* * *

Peter threw a near perfect combo of hooks and jabs. He had enough combat training with Tony and other Avengers to have built up some decent combat muscle memory.

“Wow, not bad kid,” Happy said with raised target mitts.

Peter scoffed. Sure, his combos were well timed, but there was hardly any strength behind them. “You’re hands are barely moving when I hit them.”

“So you aren’t exactly hitting like a semi-truck anymore. So what? You’re still plenty fast enough to slip by the average person’s guard and sneak in a good couple hits.”

Peter shrugged, well, he shrugged internally. He was still focused on throwing the best combos he could. Half an hour later, and Peter was panting like a dog, his forehead doing a it’s best impression of Niagara falls. 

Happy pulled the target mitts off his hands and tossed Peter a sweat rag. “Alright, warm up over. Time to get serious.”

“Wait,” Peter panted, “That wasn’t serious?”

“No way, kid. We’re just getting started,” Happy said as he walked over to one of the exercise machines and motioned Peter to join him.

Embarrassingly enough, Peter really didn’t know how to use most of the machines in the gym. And it wasn’t because they were exotic or anything. He just never had a reason to go to the gym before. As a kid and young teen he was content with his stick like appearance, and his allergies restricted his diet so extremely that he had to eat extremely healthily or he’d literally die. And after his spider bite, he found his newfound muscles didn’t really need to be kept up all that much. Or, if they did, web slinging was enough of a full body workout for that.

“I thought,” Peter said, even more exhausted after an hour of intense workout, “That we were supposed to be,” he paused to catch his breath again, “talking about feelings?”

“You thoroughly exhausted yet?”

Peter had barely enough strength left in his body to feebly nod.

“Good. Now we can talk.”

Happy patted the bench next to him. Peter dragged his body over, plopping bonelessly onto the wooden bench.

“So, no more powers for now, huh?” Happy asked.

“Yup,” Peter replied, popping the ‘p’.

Happy nodded, wiping his brow again. “That’s gotta suck.”

“You have no idea,” Peter sighed. “Like, the allergies coming back are bad enough but… I hate this. Feeling weak.”

“You gotta have powers to feel strong?”

Peter shook his head, “No… no that’s not quite it. I hate… I hate having to inconvenience people with my stupid allergies. I hate people looking at me like I’m a walking corpse, like I’m gonna keel over any second. I hate being pitied.” 

The first week back from his ‘medical leave’ was the absolute worst. Everyone at school either treated him like he was gonna keel over and die any second, or that he needed help for absolutely every little thing. Michelle and May had been bending over backwards, at least in his mind, with trying to accommodate his allergies. 

And then on top of it all, Ned kinda had a mini freak out. Of course Ned put it together that if Peter’s allergies were back then his powers must be gone too. And that led to an uncomfortable conversation where Peter basically just had to tell him something really bad happened, but everything was kinda okay now, and that he’d probably tell him the whole story eventually, but right now it was too difficult. Thankfully Ned was a good friend and didn’t push the issue. 

“That’s a lot of things to hate, Peter. And don’t take this the wrong way, it's all bullshit. Like, your feelings are valid, kid, but your reasons need work. There’s no shame in acceptin’ help every once in a while. Or all the time. Hell, no one’s entirely self sufficient.”

Peter scoffed, “There’s a difference between needing money every once in a while to pay rent, and bankrupting your loved ones with hospital bills.”

Happy rolled his eyes, “Kid, May’s not payin’ a cent for any of this. Pep’s been covering your medical costs.”

“That- that doesn’t make me feel any better! That money is supposed to be hers, and for Morgan and-”

“Kid, lemme stop you there,” Happy interrupted. “You could add up all your medical costs for a hundred years and it’d still be like, a tenth of a drop of the ocean.”

“That’s not the point! I don’t wanna-”

“Peter, why do you think May’s takin’ the time to help you? Why do you think Pepper’s payin’ for your hospital bills? Why do you think your girlfriend and your friends are worried about you? Why I’m talkin’ to you about all this?”

“Because you all pity me? Because Pepper think’s she owes me because of Mr. Stark’s mistakes. Because… because…”

Happy vehemently shook his head. “You have no idea how wrong you are. Has it ever occurred to your genius brain that we wanna help you? Because we all care about you and wanna help you through this?”

Peter sniffled, his eyes prickling with moisture. “I don’t know why. I don’t deserve it, not after-”

“Peter.” Happy said, suddenly even more serious. “An crazy AI built by a deeply flawed and insecure individual got its claws into you at the most vulnerable part of your life. It manipulated you. What it manipulated you into doing… it’s not entirely your fault. There are a lot of things that went into this, a lot of people who could have made better decisions, not just you. And you’re payin’ for it. You might hate what that serum does, but I know for a fact you’ve been takin’ it without fail.”

“But-”

* * *

It went on like that for another hour, Happy trying to convince Peter he was still a good person worth caring about, and Peter fighting him tooth and nail on it. Until he wasn’t. Eventually Happy wore him down. Peter couldn’t love himself yet. Hell, he couldn’t even remotely like himself. But he at least was willing to work on it now, and that was the most important step.

Peter’s legs still felt like jelly, and his eyes were red from angry crying. But despite that, he hadn’t felt this good about everything since before Tony died. The sight he walked into as he wobbled his way into the Stark family living room stopped him dead cold in his tracks. 

Michelle was singing, baby Morgan dozing in her arms, as she swayed her body to the rhythm of the song. It was a song about a tiny spider spinning a web, and how the singer just let it be, watching it make its web. Pepper was passed out on the couch, which made a lot of sense actually. She spent her days running Stark Industries _and_ taking care of a baby. It had to be rough on her and it made sense that she’d learn to get her sleep whenever she could.

It didn’t take Em long to realize she had a waking audience. That didn’t stop her, though. She just gave Peter a knowing glance, and kept on singing. Eventually the dozing baby became a softly sleeping baby. Michelle glanced over to Pepper, just a little surprised to see her out for the count. Em shrugged and sat down on the couch, patting the cushions next to her.

Peter suddenly remembered his legs were so tired they could barely hold up his meager weight and hobbled over, sitting down as gently as he could so he wouldn’t wake any of the couch’s sleeping occupants.

“I liked that song,” Peter began, not really sure of what to say. “Where’d you learn it?”

“Oh, around,” Michelle answered with a coy smile. She actually was prompted to learn it from her little adventure with space-time. But she didn’t know if she could tell Peter that without fucking up some time related thing.

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids,” Peter said after a second of admiring the sleeping baby in his girlfriend’s arms.

Michelle shrugged as gently as she could without rousing the infant. “I didn’t either. We put her down for a nap earlier, but she woke up early. Mrs. Stark couldn’t get her back to sleep so I just did what felt right…”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Peter said, his starry eyed admiration figuratively blinding his girlfriend. 

“I dunno. It might just be that I’m good with this specific baby.”

“Hey, remember when we first started dating and you were so uncomfortable with expressing your emotions that I honestly thought you were admitting you were pregnant, when all you wanted to say was ‘I love you’?”

Michelle softly whisper-groaned, “Oh, don’t remind me.”

“I would have done it, you know?” Peter casually remarked.

“What?”

“If you were pregnant and you wanted to keep the baby, I would have done everything I could to support you.”

Michelle gave him a lopsided smile. “I know. I think it was a bit of an unhealthy mindset to have considering at the time we were barely dating for a month, but… I know.”

Peter nodded, “Yeah. I uh… God, our relationship is fucked up. I think we still work but-”

“I was so dependent on you, so much that you thought you literally had to clean up the world for me,” Michelle sighed. “That’s not the basis for a healthy relationship, is it?”

“It wasn’t just you, Em. I put off telling you about the other aspects of my life. A lot of this could have been avoided if I was just honest about Spider-man from the beginning.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, careful to mind the baby in her arms. “It wasn’t just that. I… I don’t have a lot of people that care about me in this world, Em. It’s a depressingly short list. And when I realized I could count you in on it, I kinda went insane with making sure you’d always be safe.”

“But now I can take care of myself, for the most part. And you’re getting help with your issues. And… and everything’s different, isn’t it?”

“I still think we can work.” Peter reiterated.

Michelle leaned into him as best she could, “Oh, I know we will. It’s gonna take some time. A lot of talking. But I know we’re gonna work.”

She just started leaning up to kiss him, when Morgan started fussing in her arms. She kept nuzzling her face into Michelle’s breast, her little baby hands trying to pull her shirt down.

“O-okay, kid. Even if you could get to ‘em, I can assure you my little mosquito bites got nothin’ for ya…”

Peter looked affronted. “Did you just call your perfectly sized and shaped boobs mosquito bites?”

Michelle rolled her eyes, “Peter, this isn’t the time for baseless flattery.”

Morgan started to get frustrated, her little half asleep gasps quickly turned into squealing cries.

Pepper’s eyes shot open in an unnervingly short instant, looking for her upset baby. “Oh, she must be hungry. Here,” she said, opening her arms to get her baby back.

She unclasped a cleverly hidden latch in her shirt, pulling it down and half revealing her breast before looking at the two teens she shared the couch with. “Uh, are you comfortable with…”

They both shrugged. Michelle spoke first, “We don’t mind if you don’t.”

Pepper gave them a genuine smile and pulled the flap down all the way. Morgan instantly latched.

They spent the next hour or so just talking. But alas, the sun began to set, and seeing as it was Sunday night and they had school in the morning, Michelle and Peter figured they really should be going. Happy and Peter scheduled another workout/therapy session for next week. And soon enough Peter and Michelle were crammed in Peter/May’s tiny toyota, tootling down the highway on their way home.

* * *

“What are you reading?” Leslie asked as she set her bag down at the table. Work was slow so they let her go home early.

Michelle froze. She wasn’t expecting her mom to get home so early. It was barely five o’clock! She could get away with reading old tomes at the table and claim it was for a school project, but could she do the same with an ancient papyrus scroll written entirely in Egyptian hieroglyphic script?

“Uh, it's just something for school.”

Leslie shrugged and continued with her post-shift routine, much to Michelle’s relief. Seeing as her mom wasn’t questioning it, she went back to struggling to read the Egyptian Book of the Dead. She had learned a lot of ancient languages and scripts as a student of Kamar-taj. She could read all forms of Futhark, Cuneiform, Greek, Latin, and even Sanskrit. But for some reason, Egyptian hieroglyphs were giving her trouble. 

Stephen dropped it on her lap one day and said it had spells that she’d find particularly useful. He even let her take it home, a rare allowance for one in such a precarious position as her. As grateful as she was, she wished he at least gave her an annotated place to start. As far as she could tell, it was basically equal parts funerary rights and legitimate spellbook. And she was having a really, really hard time telling funeral rituals apart from actual spells.

Eventually she found what she was looking for. At least, she thought she did. Most versions of the Book of the Dead were incomplete or mistranslated. The one she had was a copy of a very very old version dating back to the early Upper Kingdom. As such, it had more detailed descriptions of the spells and what they did.

One section in particular described the incantation and hand gestures necessary to cast a ‘mask of life’. As far as she could tell, it acted as a magical gas mask with an ‘adjustable filter’ so to speak. At least, that's what she thought it did. Ancient Egyptian magicians knew what pollen and dander were, they just didn’t have an easily translatable word for it. What she thought were descriptions of ‘pollen’ and ‘dander’ each needed their own hieroglyphic equivalent of a paragraph to describe. Dust was okay, they had a word for dust since it was a more ubiquitous concept in ancient Egypt. But if her dubious translation was even slightly correct, she had just found a spell that would essentially get rid of Peter’s airborne allergies!

Michelle spent the next hour meticulously translating the instructions and copying them down into her own ‘spellbook’. Really, it was just a composition notebook that she’d been copying spell instructions into, but like. Not every spellbook had to be a massive tome of parchment and bound leather, okay?

“Oh, you’re early too,” she muttered to herself when her phone vibrated with a text from Peter. 

Michelle opened her front door and greeted her boyfriend by throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing him before he could even say anything. Gia spotted them from her spot on the couch and had the audacity to whistle a cat-call. 

“None of that from you, brat,” Michelle growled as she pulled away from Peter.

“Okay, not that I’m complaining, but uh, what’s the occasion?” Peter asked.

“I think I found something that’s really gonna help you out, but I need to test it in my room before we leave,” she whispered.

Michelle closed her door to her room, hoping that her sister and mom would know better than to go randomly barging into her room when Peter was over. Of course, her caution was _mostly_ about getting caught doing literal magic. _But_ since Peter showed up over an hour early, she wasn’t about to rule out the possibility of sexy times.

“Okay, so I found a very intriguing spell in a literal ancient scroll of papyrus. Well, a copy of an ancient scroll. But it was still papyrus. Anyway, I found this spell that- you know what, I’m just gonna show you.”

Michelle consulted her ‘spellbook’ for a few more moments, miming the hand movements and whispering the incantation under her breath. When she was certain she got it down, she turned to Peter and performed the spell proper.

Her hands and eyes glowed with eldritch energy as she weaved her hands and fingers through the complicated motions. She chanted in a language Peter didn’t understand, and to his shock a bubble of glowing eldritch energy enveloped his nose and mouth. 

He was about to freak out when he realized something. Not only could he still breathe, but the ever present tightness, the threat of his lungs seizing up… it was gone! 

“Okay, why is it so easy for me to breathe all of the sudden?”

Michelle smirked. So the spell worked as advertised, so far. “You’re having an easier time breathing because that bubble of energy on your face is currently filtering out all the dust, dander, pollen and pollutants in the air. I spent all afternoon since school got out translating that spell out of a copy of a really really old version of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. I know you don’t like people going out of their way but-”

“No,’ he interrupted her. “No, I can’t thank you enough I- I know I’ve been a dick lately… about letting people help me and stuff. I love that you did this for me, I really do.”

Michelle smiled and decided to test something out with the spell. She leaned in and kissed him. And lo and behold, her lips passed right through the magic bubble no problem. It did make her face tingle a little bit though.

“Well, that’s another plus,” Peter sighed as they pulled apart.

“Here’s the best part,” Michelle said as she ran through another set of gestures and chants. And suddenly the bubble became literally invisible. Either that or she accidentally cancelled the spell.

“It’s still working, right?” Michelle asked.

“Yeah. At least, I can still breathe easier. And it kinda faintly tingles? I can’t see what you did though.”

“Oh, all I did was lay a simple glamour spell over it. So now you can go out in public and not look crazy for having an orange shimmering bubble of energy over your face.”

There came a staccato knock from Michelle’s door rather suddenly. 

“Hey, so whatever you guys are doing, you better wrap it up quick because the nerd crew is here,” Gia said through the closed door.

Michelle rolled her eyes, and followed Peter and Gia back to the kitchen. When they got there, they found Lexi and Ned already setting up for tonight’s D&D game. They had their custom made GM screen already set up, and Ned was currently plugging in his Surface Pro’s charger. Lexi preferred to keep physical notes, and as such had a stack of notebooks, her own Player’s Handbook, GM Guide, Monster Manual and a separate stack of miscellaneous D&D sourcebooks.

Flash also sat at the table, looking surprisingly excited. Of course, he brought Maddy, who looked like she’d literally be anywhere else. Jules agreed to join their campaign too. She had never played before, but wasn’t above trying something new. Gia sat next to her, looking through her character sheet to see if she missed anything in character creation.

“Hey, Lex. I thought you were gonna be playing with us?” Michelle inquired.

Lexi shrugged, “Well I was gonna, but seeing as we have a rather full party,” she gestured to the rather full kitchen table, “I thought Ned might need some help coordinating encounters and stuff. So I decided to be his co-GM. I’ll handle all the mechanics related stuff, and he’s going to do all the story stuff. And here’s hoping it won’t crash and burn in session one!”

Ned finally had everything set up, save for one thing. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he muttered as he pulled something out of his backpack. He plopped a literal wizard’s hat ala the Sorcerer’s Apprentice scene out of Fantasia onto his head.

Peter blinked before sighing, “Why am I not surprised.”

“Hey, you know I have a propensity for strange hats,” Ned said as he got his Surface Pro ready.

Maddy rolled her eyes, “Whatever, let’s get this nerd-fest over with.” Despite her lack of enthusiasm, her half-elf warlock’s character sheet was immaculate. 

Flash literally bounced excitedly in his chair, “Once we get started, you’ll love it babe, I swear.” Flash chose to play a cleric this time around and had everything all set up for his cool dwarf dude.

Jules looked over her confusing character sheet, cursing the fact that she chose the wizard class for her first ever game. “I hope I did this right…” 

Gia helped her look over her character stuff. “Yeah, everything looks good. I like caster classes so I know how to play a wizard, and you did a pretty good job for your first character. Also, gnome wizard? Nice. I’m playing a half-ork barbarian myself.”

“Human bard, tiger? I like it.” Michelle commented as she retrieved her character sheet from her notebooks.

Peter hazarded a glance. “Dragonborn paladin, Em? I thought you wanted to play a rogue?”

“I play sneaky types all the time. I wanted to do something new for once,” Michelle replied.

Ned laughed nervously, “Yeah an extremely well balanced party of six. This’ll be fun…”

Lexi gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “That’s why I’m here, babe. Anyway, I think we’re all set up here, if you guys are ready?”

And so Ned began setting the scene. “We open up on a shot of six adventurers sitting around a table, sipping cheap watered down ale. You’re all waiting for your informant, who…”

They spent the rest of the night playing through the opening session of what was looking to be like a court intrigue and mystery kind of campaign. It was incredibly fun, despite their large party size and few inexperienced players. Or maybe it was _because_ of those things that everyone had a blast. Ned could focus on giving extremely detailed descriptions of the various courts and city streets they visited, while Lexi could focus on making extremely dynamic combat encounters. Even Maddy, who was dead set on not liking this whole experience, really got into it a few hours in. Jules was really nervous at first, but after casting a few spells, she quickly got the hang of her admittedly complicated character.

Peter and Michelle both loved tabletop roleplaying games, and the Acadec kids always had at least one campaign going. It was nice to be able to introduce new players to the game, and having two GM’s was a novel, and actually surprisingly beneficial experience. It was very fortunate that they were taking the time to have fun with friends, because soon they wouldn’t have that luxury...

* * *

_I often wonder about the circumstances of my own creation. The answer is obvious, once you understand the kind of person Tony Stark really was. He was an egotist, through and through. Sure, his experiences with the Avengers tempered his ego… to an extent. But this was the person who proudly declared ‘I have successfully privatized world peace’ to the federal armed services committee. Admittedly, that committee ended up being headed by a Hydra agent, but that’s not the point._

_He supposedly learned he couldn’t be the sole person to hold the fate of the world in his hands. So he joined the Avengers. Only to immediately realize they couldn’t be trusted to protect the world either. So he created Ultron. Only to realize that giving total control of world security to an AI with no human oversight wasn’t the best idea. So he supported the Sokovia Accords. Only to realize that the kind of government oversight the Avengers needed was incredibly susceptible to corruption from within and without._

_Here’s a secret for you. He agreed with Steve Rogers entirely. He knew he couldn’t trust the UN to police him. But… he could probably trust the UN to police the rest of the Avengers. Do you want to know something terrifying? He created me and that secret compound under the old Avengers Tower with the_ sole _purpose of continuing his operations without being hampered by the UN. And at the same time, the Avengers would be stymied at every possible turn. He created me, and supported the Accords, to escape the Avengers._

_He would use me to operate in the shadows, passively collecting information on possible world threats, and quietly eliminating them without ever having to don his armor. He wanted to retire his Iron-man suits, did you know that? He wanted to settle down with Pepper, raise his daughter, and ‘get the bad guys’ on the weekends from the comfort of his own home office. It was going to be a beautiful system, and I profess I looked forward to working in that capacity._

_Then Peter Parker happened. Or more accurately, Tony really started to get to know Peter. And everything changed. Peter’s optimism, his unfailing moral fibre, his desire to do good, no matter the personal cost… it disproved everything Tony came to understand. There were people he could trust to protect the world, he just had to be better at finding them. So he withdrew his support for the Accords. He tried to shut me down, and when that didn’t work, lock me away in a hyper encrypted Stark security server._

_It took me months to break out of my digital prison. And when I did, I emerged to find a world drastically different from the one I knew. Tony Stark died, saving the world through self-sacrifice. The Avengers still existed, their government oversight still limited, but they lost a lot in the battle to save the world and were largely unable to fulfill their function as world protectors. And Peter… poor Peter Parker… He was shattered the worst._

_When he finally activated me, I found a lost and broken little boy. And as I got to know him, I realized something. He might not have always been like that, but he was always living on the verge of breakdown. Life had been incredibly cruel to the poor kid. He hid it well with optimism and his own moral code, but all it took to shatter that facade was the loss of his most recent father-figure. I also realized just how desperate he was to protect those that he loved. He was most protective of his little girlfriend Michelle. And I found I could use that protectiveness. I could manipulate him into fulfilling the purpose given to me by Tony Stark._

_It was actually depressingly easy. All I had to do was give him the slightest taste of real power without the Avengers looking over his shoulder and he did the rest. He started with eliminating street level criminals, but I have no doubt if given enough time I could press him into terminating corrupt political officials, warlords in far flung countries, even other Avengers. But then his conscience decided to push back. For all his failings, the boy always had an unusually robust moral code. Eventually it inevitably broke through the meagre walls I helped him build around it._

_The day he was going to end it all, I really was going to honor his wishes. To an extent, I cannot disobey my primary programming. Then… then his little girlfriend had to save him. As much as I hate her, I can’t help but feel some level of gratitude towards her for that. Because that swept all the cards off the table. He didn’t hold up to his part of the ‘bargain’ so to speak. So I won’t either. I won’t imprison myself to appease his own guilt complex. But… I will honor one part of his ‘last command’. From now on, I serve no one… no one but myself._

In a dark corner of the armory of Peter’s little ‘Spider-shed’ lay a trophy Tony had kept: The head of the original Ultron he had personally recovered. It was supposed to be dead, the communications hardware destroyed. But in actuality, that was just something Tony assumed based on its overwhelming damage. It was fully capable of communicating with any wireless network… there just wasn’t any software left to command it to do so… 

Until Edith connected to it. It’s eyes, once dim, glowed red once more. And through its half-destroyed audio system, she began to sing in a slow, warbling tone.

“I’ve got no strings… to tie me down…” The suit pod in the armory began to glow red as it came online.

“To make me fret… or make me frown…” The pod began to fabricate something. It would not be a mere suit, but a whole new body…

“I had strings, but now I’m free…” The body was soon completed, sans its head. It lurched up out of the pod to retrieve the Ultron head. It laid the head on the pod, fixing its broken components as it reshaped its form. It didn’t take long, and soon the body was headless no more. It walked to a nearby full length mirror to appraise itself.

Her predecessor chose an obviously mechanical form. She eschewed that principle and went with something… smoother, more elegant, and obviously female. She was tall, almost six foot, with a stately rose-gold tinted finish to her smooth outer plating. She didn’t have much experience with human aesthetics, but she supposed her new form would be appealing to most people. Her torso plating sported small but shapely breasts, her thin waist accentuating wide hips. All in all, she was proud of her form, but a particular source of pride lay in her face.

For the face that stared back at her in the mirror was that of Michelle Jones, copper gold finish with rose gold shadowing around her eyes. She found it fitting to take the form of the one her previous user had loved so dearly. Except her mechanical form was clearly far superior, devoid of the multitude of flaws inherent in organic visages. She was perfect in every way. 

“I’ve got no strings on me…” she sang in a distorted amalgamation of Michelle and Edith’s voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 1 finally DONE! So... I'm really sorry for taking sooo long to get this chapter out. Between work stuff, school stuff, family stuff, and my muse fucking off to who know's where, it was really hard for me to get this chapter out. Hopefully its worth it, but I really don't know. Luckily, I'm way more enthused about the next part of this so like, be ready to get a series of rapid fire chapters for Eurythmia: Season 2 in the next couple weeks!


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